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THE BOY SCOUTS 
OF THE WOLF PATROL 



it was slow work, but successful” (See page 259) 




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The Boy Scouts 

of < Uie 

Wolf Patrol 


By 

BREWER CORCORAN 

i\ 

Author of 

The Boy Scouts of Kendallvilie,” “Will Brad- 
ford’s School Days, or The Barbarian,” 
“The Road to Le Reve,” etc. 


Illustrated by 

JOHN GOSS / 



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Published with the approval of 
THE BOY SCOUTS OF AMERICA 


THE PAGE COMPANY 

BOSTON Sfi K MDCCCCXX 


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Copyright, 1920, 

By The Page Company 


All rights reserved 


First Impression, January, 1920 


FEB 19 1920 y 


THE COLONIAL PRESS 
C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A. 


©CI.A561908 ' 


AUTHOR’S NOTE 


To such of my readers as are Boy Scouts no ex- 
planation is needed of the difference between a Boy 
Scout troop and a patrol, but to those who are not 
members of this wonderful organization, it may be 
desirable to explain that a patrol is a group of not 
more than nine boys, from whom one is selected as 
the patrol leader, while a troop is a larger organiza- 
tion and made up of several patrols. A patrol 
assumes a distinct name, usually that of an animal, 
such as the Wolf Patrol about which this story is 
written, while the troops are known by their locality, 
and if there is more than one troop in any locality 
each troop is given a number. 

I wish to take this opportunity to express my 
appreciation of the courtesy of Mr. Franklin 
Mathiews, Director of the Library Department of 
“ Boys’ Life,” the official magazine of the Boy 
Scouts of America, to whom the manuscript of this 
story was submitted, and who has given it his 
official approval. 


Brewer Corcoran. 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Wolves Gather i 

II Carrying On . . 27 

III Out in the Open . .- ., . 43 

IV The Lion’s Den . 65 

V A Blow in the Dark 91 

VI The Other Stranger . . . . . 121 

VII Stone Plays a Part 142 

VIII In Uniform . . M . 163 

IX A Hunch and a Theory ...... 183 

X The Needle in the Haystack . . . . . 218 

XI Our Country First . 255 

XII The Trap Which Set Itself 276 

XIII The Wolves Howl 301 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

“ It was slow work but successful ” ( See 
page 259) .... Frontispiece 

“ They spun around in their surprise" . . 56 

“ Picked up a paper knife, bending it between 

STRONG FINGERS AS HE TALKED " .82 

“ In the hand of each was something blue 

AND COLD" ...... 201 

“ He made a break down the track ” . . 248 

“ The low-crouching figure on the fire es- 
cape MOVED SWIFTLY NOW "... 299 









































THE BOY SCOUTS OF 
THE WOLF PATROL 


CHAPTER I 

THE WOLVES GATHER 

Spring, having come to Gillfield, lingered, and 
Tug Wilson’s dog Hector observed this annual 
event by again almost catching a woodchuck. At 
least Tug was so insisting. 

“ Nothing doing!” declared Nelson Pease, dis- 
gustedly. “ Nothin’ doin’ a-tall ! In the first place, 
that flea hospital is afraid of a chuck, and, in the 
second, he wouldn’t know one if he saw one.” 

“ Would too,” contradicted the loyal owner, “ an’ 
Hec’d have got him, too, if they’d had ten yards 
more to run.” 

“ That may be true, Nelse,” volunteered Stan 
Wood, joyously. “ Maybe both Hec and the chuck 


l 


2 THE BOY SCOUTS 

would have died of old age before they’d have 
covered that much ground.” 

“ Never thought of that,” Nelse admitted, and 
ventured a speculative glance at the almost-Airedale 
sitting on the edge of the walk before the steps. 
Hector, the permanent shadow of the rising genera- 
tion of Wilson, wagged his stump of a tail and 
elevated one yellow ear. The boys having talked 
for almost five minutes without any display of 
physical activity, he felt that something was about 
due to happen. When such things did, he found it 
quite satisfactory to stick his cold nose into the neck 
of the lad at the bottom of the pile and then to 
capture some stray cap and worry it for ten minutes 
or so. Hec was hopeful in other things than the 
pursuit of woodchucks. His only minor drawbacks 
were his reputation and his name. He had earned 
the former — none denied that — but the latter had 
been bestowed on him by Tug’s mother, which goes 
to prove that few women understand boys and still 
fewer, dogs. Hector of Troy was a perfectly good 
warrior, but he did converse terrifically before he 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 


3 


went into action. Hector of Gillfield might have 
been better named Battling Mike. Next to Nelse 
Pease, he knew more about trouble than any one in 
the town. 

But the strange part of Hector’s whole battle- 
scarred career was his utter and complete loyalty 
to Tug. Tug was everything his yellow dog was 
not. Gentle, quiet, lovable, the little fellow hadn’t 
an enemy in the world. Therefore the boys who 
loved him most picked upon him all the time, just as 
the dogs gave the yellow bunch of bone and courage 
a wide and peaceful berth. Without Tug and Hec, 
the Wolf Patrol would have been lost. Each, in his 
own way, played the part of safety-valve. 

Nor was this same Wolf Patrol, now in the 
process of foregathering on the Mayhew steps, a 
thing lightly to be passed over. The pioneer of 
Gillfield’s Boy Scout organizations, it had thrived 
and prospered as only loyalty and success can make 
things thrive and prosper. Stephen Mayhew, after 
he had come back to Gillfield from college, had been 
quick to grasp all that the then-budding Scout 


4 THE BOY SCOUTS 

movement promised for boys, and hardly had he 
become established at the new desk in the office of 
his father’s plant, which served to keep Gillfield 
prominently on the map, before he reached out for 
new fields to try his hands upon. Now he believed 
that these fields, populated by many youngsters, had 
returned him a better harvest than the factory. And 
when one looks over Gillfield, its neat houses, its 
prosperous streets, its row upon row of red brick 
factories, all dominated by the great Mayhew home 
high on the eastern side of the narrow valley, it is 
easy to understand the sort of chap Steve Mayhew 
was. 

The boys of his own day and generation had 
loved him, but those of Tug’s, Stan’s, Nelson’s and 
Joe Lowell’s, looked up to him in undisguised 
idolatry. If he had announced that the moon was 
edible, even the dog Hector would have licked his 
chops. So, when, five years before, he had sent 
for eight of the boys he had watched from baby- 
carriages through hoops, hop-Scotch and up through 
marbles to long trousers, they had answered that 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 5 

call even unto Alex Cotton, the Silent. And while 
they then had had no idea of, and less interest 
in, Scouting, they had agreed instantly, individ- 
ually and intensely, to become tender feet. If 
“ Mr. Steve ” said it was a good thing, that was 
enough. 

Since that day the Boy Scouts of Gillfield had 
grown, prospered and thrived, but to the eight there 
was but one patrol. Like true wolves, the Wolves 
howled alone. That is, the Wolf Patrol as a pack. 
They were seldom apart, they guarded their honor 
and reputation with a vigilance which had, on occa- 
sions, led to black eyes and remorse. For, after 
all, they were just human boys — these fellows of 
the Wolf Patrol, and that was the sort of boy Steve 
Mayhew wanted each to be. The lad who stands 
upright, looks every other boy squarely in the eye 
and takes his knocks as they come, has fewer 
grievous surprises in store in after life than the 
pampered mollycoddle. 

Perhaps Nick Reed’s classic description of the 
Wolves best set them forth. Nick, being then 


6 THE BOY SCOUTS 

thirteen, and as conscious of the size of his hands 
and brilliancy of his new red and yellow necktie as 
he was unconscious of his pug nose and epidemic of 
freckles, had cleared his throat twice, had pulled up 
his belt, had saluted and had addressed Scout Master 
Mayhew. “ Beg pardon, sir,” he had begun uncom- 
fortably, “ but we fellows sorter know each other 
an’ — an’ — an’, we sorter hitch.” 

They did ; there is no disputing that. They 
“ hitched ” to perfection and they played the game 
as a team. Up through the grammar school and 
into the high they came, united and indivisible. 
Their ranks were full and they kept them full. 
Many there were who wished to join the Wolves; 
many applied but none were chosen. From that 
first meeting in Mr. Steve’s office through the five 
succeeding years there had been no vacant place. 
Even Hec adorned the door mat when the Patrol 
was in formal session. 

However, to-day there was no formal meeting. 
Nothing can be formal when the spring sun makes 
both a coat on a boy and the red sheaf on a maple 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 7 

bud uncomfortable. Hector abruptly ceased in- 
vestigating the root of his left ear with his hind 
paw, and, cocking his head, glanced expectantly 
down the winding driveway. The soft purr of the 
motor grew louder. The crunch of the tires on the 
gravel became audible, then the long runabout swung 
around the curve and came to a stop before the steps. 
“ Hello, fellows ! Mail kept me longer than I ex- 
pected.” 

The man behind the wheel jumped out. Tall, 
broad of shoulder, thin of waist and lean of flank, 
Stephen Mayhew looked the pink of condition he 
was. His face was better than handsome; it was 
strong, attractive, and its most attractive feature 
were the brown eyes which danced and twinkled 
and the straight lips which knew so well how to 
change from firmness into cheery smile which could 
grow to boyish laughter. At twenty-six he was 
more than his father’s good right hand. There was 
none at lathe or drill or desk who worked at higher 
pressure and there was none who seemingly played 
with a lighter heart. Hec, thoroughly approving, 


8 THE BOY SCOUTS 

proceeded to run around in circles and attempt to 
bark his head off. 

“ ’Sail right, old man,” laughed Mayhew ; “ I saw 
you before. You, Fat,” he snapped, flashing around 
on the large, comfortable youth who still sat in the 
car, “ wake up and get out of that! ” 

“ Can’t,” replied the lad mournfully; “ I’m very, 
very sick. I’ll have to ride in this all the way. I 
like automobiles.” 

“ Throw him out, Joe.” Mayhew looked as 
young as any of them as he spoke to the well-built 
fellow already half way out of the rumble. 

“ Cheese it! ” protested the victim. “ I’ve got an 
earache.” 

“ You mean you’re going to have.” Joe Lowell 
always kept his promises, but this time his fingers 
slipped. The next minute he and Fatty Foster were 
rolling on the grass and Hec was beginning to be- 
lieve life worth living. 

“ Call off that fish hound ! ” wailed Fatty. “ I 
think he bit me. Quit it, Joe ! ” 


Will you behave? ” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 


9 


The big fellow sat up, rubbing his uninjured ears 
with mock tenderness, his blue eyes wide with inno- 
cence. “ I never do anything else,” he confessed 
blandly. “ Did you bring lunch enough for us 
both, Joey? ” 

The two joined in the general roar of laughter. 
While the Wolves might be a close corporation, they 
were as the poles apart as compared with Joe Lowell 
and Harvey Foster. From the time they toddled, 
the two had been inseparable. If Joe was not 
down at the foreman’s house under the hill, 
Harvey was up at the superintendent’s home ad- 
joining the Mayhew place and, if one was not at the 
other’s, they were, naturally, somewhere else, but 
together — always together. 

As unlike as two boys could be, they complemented 
each other. Joe was as slender and high-strung as 
Harvey was round and placid. The former was 
rather quiet, thoughtful and studious; the latter 
bubbling over, lazy, careless, carefree, physically 
powerful and always and vociferously hungry. 
That the parents of one were well-to-do and those 


10 THE BOY SCOUTS 

of the other in decidedly moderate circumstances 
never occurred to either lad. If one of them had 
something, it always belonged to the other. If 
Harvey’s conscience sometimes grew too acute over 
his scholastic standing, it was Joe who explained 
and re-explained problem or Latin construction. If, 
as once did happen, a new boy in the town tried to 
bully Joe, it was Harvey who completed the disaster. 
Perhaps it could all be summed up in fewer words — 
they were real friends. 

“ Where are Ned and Alex?” Mr. Mayhew 
plainly showed surprise over the absence of two of 
his flock. 

“ Probably playing catch on the way up,” 
volunteered Nick. “ Alex’s tryin’ to get his 
arm in shape to pitch against Kendallville next 
week.” 

“ Oh, all right ! They ought to be here by the 
time I can change to comfortable clothes. I’ll be 
right back.” He ran up the steps and into the 
house, whistling as he disappeared. Somehow or 
other Mr. Steve seemed even more cheerful than 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 11 


usual this morning. Everything pointed toward its 
being a big day. 

He was back, clad in knickerbockers and a 
sweater, before the two tardy Wolves had caught 
their slow way the length of the drive. 

“ You’re going to lose about three fingers some 
day, Ned,” he called. “ Cup your hands on those 
fast ones.” 

“ His little sister taught him baseball,” ob- 
served Nelse languidly. “ Don’t waste your time 
trying to coach him, Mr. Steve.” 

Field waved his gloved paw. “ Alex’s beginning 
to make ’em hop,” he called, in honest delight. 

“ You keep talking to him that way and he’ll 
pitch his arm to death,” offered Mayhew soberly. 
“ Too early in the season for the fast ones, Alex. 
Cut it out.” 

“ Honestly, sir, arm’s feeling fine.” 

“ Good enough ! Keep it feeling that way. 
You fellows all ready?” Once more he looked 
around at the boys about him. 

“ Yes, sir.” 


12 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Been so.” 

“ Who’s got my lunch ? ” 

“ Do I sit on the front seat again? ” 

“ You do not. You walk, and you walk fast, 
Fat. This is going to be one of those days when 
you work.” 

Harvey gazed longingly at the luxurious runabout. 
“ Every day is just like yesterday,” he groaned. 
“ To-morrow’s always the day I ride. And to- 
morrow’s never caught up with me yet. Good-by, 
little automobubble ; you’ll be lonesome, too. But 
keep a stiff upper lip.” He swung the straps of a big 
knapsack over his head and made a grab for Lowell’s 
smaller bundle. “ I’ll carry that, Joe,” he offered; 
“ you’ve got the ax.” 

“ Which way do we go, sir? ” It was most un- 
usual for Cotton to show interest in anything but 
baseball. 

“ Thought we might cut across the farm and fol- 
low the brook up the mountain.” 

“ Whew ! ” whistled Nelse. “ Some hike for this 
time of year ! ” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 13 


“ Got to get hardened,” Mr. Mayhew retorted. 
There was something about both his tone and queer 
little smile which made Joe Lowell look at him a 
bit more closely. 

“ You’ve never asked us to do anything you 
haven’t been ready to do yourself,” he said. 
“ Ready when you are, sir.” 

“ Hike ! ” They swung around the southern 
corner of the house, a compact body, Hec yelping 
raspingly as he acted as the advanced line of 
skirmishers, and, hoping in his heart of hearts, to 
flush his old enemy, the Mayhew cat. 

Cotton and Foster, the former because he was 
wise and the latter because he was lazy, set the pace. 
Across the gardens and over the first flat fields the 
going was easy, but Alex remembered of old that 
stiff climb up the mountain and appreciated the value 
of beginning it fairly fresh in strength and wind. 
Behind them, the other six kept up a running fire 
of questions at Mr. Mayhew, who gave as good as 
he received and proved himself a rare Scout Master 
by his ability to be one of the boys, yet, in some 


14 THE BOY SCOUTS 

really subtle way, keeping himself just in the back- 
ground. 

While he told himself over and over that he had 
no favorite amongst the eight, he was far from un- 
happy when Joe Lowell finally fell into step at his 
side. Tug ran ahead to see if the valiant Hec 
had actually treed a desperate gray squirrel. 

There was a something about Joe which appealed 
to older men. If Steve Mayhew had been asked to 
define it, he would only have laughed and have 
said that the youngster “ was a likable kid.” Two 
characteristics stood out above all Joe’s other quali- 
ties — one was his ability to listen intelligently and 
the other was to keep a tight tongue between his 
teeth. A boy can go a long way with these two 
gifts. 

The end of the first hour found the boys in an 
open space about half way up the rugged mountain. 
Foster, one eye on the red face of little Tug, unslung 
his knapsack and festooned himself over a par- 
ticularly uncomfortable bowlder. “ Here’s where I 
rearrange my burden,” he announced. “ It’s easier 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 15 

to carry food inside than outside. Besides, I’m 
hungry.” 

“Were you ever anything else?” laughed May- 
hew, as he stopped beside him. 

“Oh, yes,” Fat instantly agreed; “quite often 
I’m sleepy. What’s the use in going any further, 
anyway? I read something somewhere sometime 
about a guy who tried to walk to the top of a 
mountain and all he got out of it was fame for 
freezing to death ‘ ’mid snow and ice.’ I’m not am- 
bitious. My motto’s ‘ Play it safe.’ Who’ll swop 
two hard-boiled eggs for a jelly sandwich? ” 

“ But you get such a bully view from the top,” 
suggested Wood. 

“ You can’t eat a view,” Harvey retorted wither- 
ingly. 

“If you could, you’d know,” stated Joe. “ What 
sort of a nine’s Kendallville got this year, Alex? ” 

“ Good.” The lanky pitcher shook his head 
dubiously. “ Good,” he repeated. 

“ Be careful or you’ll talk yourself to death,” 
warned Nelson Pease, shifting his pack on his 


16 THE BOY SCOUTS 

shoulders. “ Did you ever look on the hopeful side 
of anything, Alex? ” 

“ ’Tis good,” reiterated the big fellow. 

“ You can beat ’em.” Joe’s voice was strong in 
its conviction. “ You always have. They can’t 
lick you.” 

“ Arm’s not right.” Cotton’s tone was mournful 
in the extreme. 

Ned Field exhibited a puffy palm. “ That 
doesn’t look so,” he proclaimed. “ You nearly 
burned all the hide off, you old croaker ! Joe’s right, 
as usual. What you need more than more speed 
is a little confidence.” 

“ What he needs more than anything else,” an- 
nounced Foster, “ is something between his ears 
besides bone. If you’re planning to pick all the 
burrs out of the fish hound, Tug, you’re able to do 
something worth while. Come on!” Fat sprang 
to his feet, grabbed his hat and was half way 
across the clearing before the rest could pick up 
their things. 

“ Edge toward the south, Harvey,” Mr. Steve 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 17 

called after him. “ Thought we’d build our fire by 
the big spring.” 

Foster waved his hand but did not look back. 
“ That’s where I’m headed,” he answered. “ I 
haven’t forgotten last fall.” 

Nor had he forgotten many another afternoon 
spent by the source of that mountain brook. From 
the earliest days of the Wolves, this spring had 
been the favorite goal for many a hike. In fact it 
had become a part of the Patrol’s traditions. It 
was there that Stephen Mayhew had taught them 
the woodcraft he had learned in the North and 
West; it was there they had listened to his quiet 
talks on the things which a true Scout must practice ; 
it was there they had grown closer together in the 
great brotherhood of Nature. 

The last ten minutes of the second hour’s real 
climb became almost a race. Pease, by a final 
sprint, reached the spring just as Hec was preparing 
to lie down in its cooling, silver bosom. “ Get out 
of that! ” he bawled. 

“ He’s thirsty,” claimed his proud owner. 


18 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ So ’m I,” snapped Nelse. “ Every time IVe 
tried to get a drink for the last two hours I’ve seen 
that hound sitting in the brook just above me. 
Wonder you wouldn’t give him a bath at home ! ” 

Tug, being really tired, flushed, but, in the next 
instant, began to laugh. Even if he was the smallest 
of them all, he had learned much from Scouting. 
“ You an’ Hec both make a pile of noise,” he an- 
nounced, “ an’ you both make most when there’s 
work to do.” 

“ You take care of the pup,” chuckled Mr. May- 
hew, “ and I’ll keep a general oversight on Nelse.” 

“ And here,” wailed Pease, “ is where I do all the 
work as usual.” Nevertheless, he was almost the 
first to drop his bundle. “ Alex and I will get the 
wood,” he volunteered. “ Who’s going to polish 
the kitchen range? ” 

“ Our job,” announced Ned Field. “ Come on, 
Stan. You dig the leaves away from the old back 
log and I’ll fix the crane.” 

“ Hold on a minute.” Joe Lowell’s voice rose 
above the confusion of a quick start. “ Everybody 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 19 

pile his lunch on the rock and Tug and I’ll arrange 
it. The rest of you slick up the place. Might as 
well get the dead stuff out of the way, then we won’t 
have to bother with it again this year.” 

“ The rest of us being Nick and me,” grinned 
Fat, “ we will now proceed to organize Troop 
Number 23 of the United Order of Little Robin 
Redbreasts. I’ll sing while you pick up dead leaves 
to cover me with, Nick. Hop, you merry song- 
bird ! ” He grabbed a dead branch and began a 
wild chase after Reed, in which Hec immediately 
and enthusiastically joined. In two seconds they 
had the entire crowd dodging and yelling like wild 
Indians. 

It was Foster who brought the game to an end 
as quickly as he had started it. “ Stop ! ” he roared. 
“ This is just making me hungrier. Everybody get 
busy ! ” 

From a rollicking, shouting mass, the eight 
changed to workmen almost on the instant. It was 
easy to see that they were well grounded in their 
details. Alex and Nelse had a fire crackling before 


20 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


Lowell and Tug had half sorted the luncheon 
bundles. Foster and Nick piled the winter’s waste 
by the flames, where Mr. Mayhew could feed it 
judiciously into the fire, and the clang of Stan’s 
hatchet rang above the other noises as he drove the 
forked uprights into the ground and then nodded 
to Field to swing the coffee pot into place on the 
cross piece. 

Larger and fresh-split chunks of wood began to 
appear as Alex chopped at a windfall at the edge of 
the glade. There was no confusion, no waste mo- 
tion, no hurry. Stephen Mayhew, seated on a 
weatherbeaten log by the fire, half nodded, as if 
venturing to tell himself that his work had been 
well done. 

But again that strange look crept into his eyes 
and he was quieter than usual during all the clatter 
of the season’s first meal in the open. Again Joe 
Lowell was the only one to notice that the Scout 
Master had less to say than usual. But again he 
kept his peace. If Mr. Steve had anything im- 
portant on his mind, which he thought they should 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 21 


know, he would tell them in his own good time. 
Joe knew that, as well as when not to ask needless 
or embarrassing questions. 

The explanation came, as many other things had 
come to Gillfield, and the whole country, during the 
year that had gone — quietly, soberly but leaving a 
whirlpool in its wake. 

The remnants of the luncheon had been picked 
up and burned, the camp put in order, and the boys 
were seated on the three logs which surrounded the 
glowing embers. It was the looked-forward-to time 
when Stephen Mayhew gave them of his store of 
knowledge. Even Hec was still. Fatty Foster 
drew a long, contented breath. “ Life’s really worth 
living,” he announced. 

“ You’re right,” Mr. Steve agreed, with a force- 
fulness which made them all turn toward him; 
“ you’re dead right ! ” 

“ Any one might think you hadn’t found it so 
before,” ventured Nelse. 

“ I don’t suppose I ought to say it, but I haven’t.” 
The man leaned back and clasped his hands about 


22 THE BOY SCOUTS 

one knee. “ I’m twenty-six. I’m not married, and 
the war’s been going a year. Do you know what 
that means ? ” 

Memories of many conversations between his 
father and mother flashed through Joe’s mind. “ I 
do,” he said gently, “ but I know the people at 
Washington asked you to stay at the factory when 
you volunteered to go last year.” 

“ Who told you that? ” Stephen Mayhew’s voice 
fairly snapped. 

“ My father, sir.” 

The man looked at the lad for a long second, then 
slowly rose and, thrusting his hands deep into his 
pockets, walked across the narrow glade, wheeled 
and came back, his head up, his jaw set. “If you 
boys were asking your parents why I was not with 
the colors, how do you think I answered that same 
question when my conscience asked it of me?” he 
demanded. “ How do you think I’ve felt when all 
the fellows I was with at college were getting into 
olive drab? How do you think I’ve felt every time 
I’ve seen a draft of the boys I grew up with march 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 23 

out of Gillfield? How do you think I’ve felt a thou- 
sand times a day when I’ve thought of my country 
at war? ” 

“ Dunno.” Harvey’s answer was more confusion 
than confession. 

“ I hope you never will know,” Mayhew flashed 
back. “ If I live to be ten thousand years old I’ll 
never square my conscience with what I’ve done. 
They tell me I’ve done right, but I can’t see it, never 
will see it. I want you boys to know the real story.” 
He drew a long breath before going on. “ You all 
know that the factory was making time fuses for 
the French seventy-fives,” he began. “ When we 
went in against the Hun, the Ordnance people sent 
for my father to come to Washington. I went with 
him. They asked us how many fuses we could make 
for this country. We said double our then capacity. 
They told us to double that. It meant the new 
mills, the new machinery, the new houses for the 
new workmen. I told them that my father was too 
old to take on the greater burden alone, that I’d al- 
ready signed up for Plattsburg, that they could trust 


24 THE BOY SCOUTS 

the Mayhew company to do its part and more, but 
that they must not expect the impossible. 

“ More officers came in. My father saw it as I 
did. They argued. We said we’d do our share, 
but fifty per cent of that share was overseas and 
that that fifty per cent was my share. At last a 
lean, square- jawed man with a star on his shoulder, 
stalked into the room. I think they’d sent for him. 
His eyelids were half-drawn over black, snapping 
eyes and there were deep lines about the corners of 
his straight mouth. He was worn and raw from 
overwork and his temper was as short as mine. 
For the first and last time in my life, a man stormed 
me out of my convictions. He made me see that 
my duty to my country was here in Gillfield. So 
I stayed.” 

Of a sudden he straightened once more and his 
shoulders went back. “ Last week,” he said, in a 
ringing voice, “ our deliveries exceeded even our big 
promise. The new shops were running smoothly. 
I’d done my part of the job. I went to Washington 
again. I saw that same general. I told him what 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 25 

we had done and what I was going to do and he 
offered me a majority in his office.” 

“ Major ! ” exploded Nelse. “ Hope you told him 
where he got off. You ought to be a colonel, at 
least.” 

Mr. Mayhew laughed. “ Thanks for the compli- 
ment.” 

“ Did you take it, sir ? ” 

“ Are you really going ? ” 

“ Oh, gee! ” 

“ Yes,” he announced, “ Fm going. But I’m not 
going as a major of ordnance. I’m through doing 
things according to other people’s lights. I’ve only 
two people to answer to from now on. One’s 
Stephen Mayhew; the other’s the President of the 
United States. Our views on the subject fit to per- 
fection. He’s commander-in-chief of the army and 
he’s said how that army’s to be raised. His way’s 
my way. I’m draft age. On Monday I’m going 
with the draft.” 

“ As a private ? ” gasped Stan. 

“ As a soldier of the army of the United States,” 


26 THE BOY SCOUTS 

corrected Mr. Mayhew. “If there’s a prouder title, 
I’ve yet to hear it.” 

Joe Lowell got slowly to his feet. His eyes were 
shining and his voice shook a little as he held out 
his hand. “ I always knew you’d do it,” he said. 
“ I always knew you’d do it.” 

As quick as he had grasped Stephen Mayhew’s 
hand, he dropped it. “ Attention ! ” he snapped. 

The seven came to their feet, their heels together, 
their backs like ramrods. “We Scouts don’t know 
a great deal about military things,” he announced, 
rushing his words, “ and we’ll probably do it wrong, 
but I know every fellow here means it right. 
Scouts, Private Mayhew of the U. S. Army ! 
Salute!” 

Stephen Mayhew bit his lip. It was not the mili- 
tary absurdity of their tribute which made him do 
it. These boys meant more to him than they 
dreamed. “ Thanks, fellows,” he said huskily. 
“ Carry on! ” 


CHAPTER II 


CARRYING ON 

Even Nelse Pease lacked pep. There was no 
disputing the fact that the gloom in the Lowells’ 
parlor was so thick that it was sticky. The Wolf 
Patrol had apparently lost more than its Scout 
Master. Its initiative was missing. Harve Foster 
recrossed his khaki-clad legs for the fourth time in 
three minutes. “ ’S long’s we’re all here,” he 
growled, “ let’s get things over with.” 

“ ’S your house, Joe,” mumbled Wood. “ Might 
’s well try to take his place. Some one’s got to.” 

“ All right.” Joe Lowell’s lips were set tight as 
he rose. The opening ceremonies of the Patrol’s 
meetings had been as full of snap and vim under the 
leadership of Stephen Mayhew as they had been of 
meaning and sincerity. To-night there was a drab- 
ness about it all which made every boy more home- 
sick than before for the man who had gone to camp 


27 


28 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


that morning. They had known they would miss 
him; they had not appreciated how acute their dis- 
tress would be. 

Ned Field stood it for ten minutes. “ Let’s cut 
it out,” he erupted. “ I’ve got to go home, anyway ; 
got a pile of studying to do and everything.” 

“ Good idea,” Nelse agreed. 

“ Sorter promised my mother I might be home 
earlier than usual,” offered Foster, beginning to get 
ready to get up. 

“Wonder what Mr. Steve’s doing now?” ven- 
tured Tug mournfully. 

It was just at that moment that, the full moon 
having peered over the edge of the mountain, Hec, 
out on the front porch, sat up on his haunches and 
emitted a howl which made every boy jump, then 
look around sheepishly to see if any one else had 
been equally on edge. 

“ Even Hec misses him,” sighed Tug. 

“ First time he’s ever shown signs of intelligence,” 
Fat growled. “ Any one going my way? ” 

Joe sprang to his feet. “ Not yet, there isn’t,” he 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 29 


announced sharply. “ This sort of thing’s gone far 
enough. What are we all, anyway — a lot of yellow 
quitters ? ” 

"Looks like it,” agreed Fat disconsolately. “ If 
that dog howls a third time, I’ll bawl.” 

“ Why ? ” Joe demanded. “ Why ? Because Mr. 
Steve’s got his chance? Because he’s got what he 
worked tooth and nail for a year to get? Because 
he’s going to fight for his country? We’ve got a 
fine chance of licking the Hun, if all the boys in 
America are acting the way we’ve acted for the last 
twenty minutes.” 

“ There’s something in that,” admitted Nelse. 

“ There’s a whole lot in it,” declared Joe. “ For 
a year, about all we’ve been able to give the Allies is 
hope and courage. Things look black over there 
now. But the Hun won’t win the Channel ports. 
The Allies know we’re coming and they’ll hold. 
But this is no time for a single American to show 
a yellow streak, and that’s exactly what we’ve been 
doing, every one of us. We ought to be standing 
up, yelling our heads off, because Mr. Steve’s gone. 


30 THE BOY SCOUTS 

Instead of that we’re thinking of ourselves. We’re 
a fine bunch of Scouts, we are! ” 

“ You’re dead right, Joe! Every one of us ought 
to be ashamed of himself. We’ve fanned out just 
when we ought to have made a hit. Here’s Mr. 
Steve gone to the bat with his head up and we sit on 
the bench with our tails down. We’re yellow, 
worse’n yellow. We’re no better than Huns. We 
oughter get back of Mr. Steve, and what he stands 
for, and really begin to root our heads off.” 

Alex Cotton sat down again, his face white. It 
was the first speech he had ever made, but he had 
made it because he couldn’t help himself. It just 
had to come out. 

“ Second the motion,” cried Stan ; “ that’s my 
feeling exactly.” 

“ Guess Alex’s said what we all feel,” admitted 
Fat. “ But talk’s cheap; we’re not getting any- 
where.” 

“ We’ve got far enough to get our feet under us 
again,” stated Joe. “ This hasn’t been the Wolf 
Patrol that’s been holding a mourners’ meeting. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 31 

The real Wolf Patrol will now come to order. 
Alex, you take the flag.” 

They caught Joe’s idea in a flash. As Cotton un- 
furled the colors, it was an entirely different set of 
boys who stood at attention, and there was a new 
ring in their voices as they repeated the oath of 
allegiance to the flag. It had meant much to them 
before, this glorious piece of red, white and blue 
silk, but now each boy seemed to see another flag 
beside it, a flag also of red and white, but on this 
second flag was but one star — and that of blue. 

It was Nelson Pease who first spoke after the 
opening ceremonies of this very real meeting. “If 
your mother wouldn’t mind, Joe,” he said, “ I’d like 
to make the motion we bring Hec in here. The old 
fellow’s lonesome out there on the porch.” 

“ Course she won’t mind,” assented Joe. 

“ Move Fat be appointed a committee of one to 
escort him in.” 

“ Second that motion,” grinned Harve, getting up. 

Hector was duly introduced, but it was a quiet 
and rather dejected Hec. Alex leaned forward and 


32 THE BOY SCOUTS 

scratched a yellow ear. “ Good ole Hec ! ” he 
muttered. 

“ Now about this Patrol ?” began Nelse again. 
“ Mr. Steve having been granted a leave of absence 
by unanimous consent, none of us is apt to suggest 
putting any one in his place as Scout Master.” 

There was, both in his tone and glance, a sugges- 
tion that any such action would be rather unhealthy 
for a careless proposer. But the chorus came quick 
and sharp. 

“ Not much! ” 

“ Hardly!” 

“ Well, I guess not!” 

“ Such being the case,” went on Nelse, “ looks to 
me ’s if we’d got to do one thing we’d always 
avoided — that’s choose a leader of the Patrol. Mr. 
Steve always wanted us to elect one, but I guess we 
all felt the same way. We’ve been a pretty tight 
little corporation and we’ve had an equal say in 
everything. One fellow’s say was as good as the 
next one. It’s worked, too.” 

Joe Lowell rose reluctantly. “ Guess you’re 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 33 

right, Nelse,” he agreed. “ I always have been 
against it, but I guess you’re right now. Some one’s 
got to be in command. I suppose the Scout Com- 
missioner will want that, and I suppose he’ll pick 
one of us, if we ask him to. But I’d like to keep it 
all amongst ourselves. Any one of you fellows 
would make as good a leader as another. I’ll obey 
any one you choose. But I don’t believe any of you 
likes the idea of voting for some one any more than 
I do. Don’t let’s do it,” he urged ; “ there might 
be a tie and some one might feel badly about being 
defeated. I don’t think any fellow would, but he 
might. That’s why I want to make a suggestion : 
I’ll fix seven slips of paper, different lengths, then 
each of you draw one. The fellow who gets the 
longest slip is patrol leader.” 

“ Good idea ! ” agreed Harvey. “ Fine idea, 
m — ” 

“ Knew you’d all think so,” broke in Joe. 

“ Once in awhile I’d like to finish what I start,” 
went on Fat, with unusual soberness. “ Although 
you’ve been doing most of the talking, I believe Alex 


34 THE BOY SCOUTS 

is in the chair and I’m addressing the chair. So 
you, being out of order, disturbing the peace and 
butting in generally, go back somewhere, build an 
igloo and crawl into it. Now fellows/’ he went on, 
turning to the smiling circle, which understood his 
outburst as well as his best friend had understood it, 
“ this seven-slips-of-paper stuff is just like old Joey, 
— never think of making it eight, he wouldn’t. 
Give every one else a chance — that’s his idea. Fine 
young idea, fine! But,” he said, suddenly earnest, 
“ it goes to prove what we all feel. There’s only 
one fellow here for the place and that’s the chap who 
didn’t think of himself. Move Joe Lowell be 
unanimously elected by acclamation.” 

“ But, Fat — ” 

“ If you’ve any further motions, announcements 
or kicks, try to make ’em to the chair,” advised 
Harve; “ I’ve a motion before the house.” 

“ Any one second the motion? ” asked Alex. 

“ Sure!” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Vote.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 35 


“ Those in favor of Harvey’s motion.” 

“ Yes ! ” It came in seven loud voices. 

“ Opposed.” 

“ No.” 

“ Yeas have it,” announced the chair. “Glad of 
it, Joe. Hate to preside.” 

“ You ought to — the way you do,” comforted 
Nelse. “Speech! Speech!” 

Joe Lowell tried to argue, but they would no i 
listen. It had never entered his mind that any one 
could think of him as a leader. He was sure he 
was the least fitted of them all for the place. Know- 
ing that he lacked the fun-making abilities of Nelse, 
the athletic ability of Cotton, the happy-go-lucky 
disposition of Harvey, he considered himself only 
as a part of the background. In reality he had 
grown to be both background and backbone of the 
Wolf Patrol and of the eight he was the only one 
who remained unconscious of that fact. Modest to 
a degree, he had never in his life had time or incli- 
nation to give himself a thought. For four happy 
years his one idea had been to make the Wolves as 


36 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


near perfect as was possible and, in striving to do 
for an organization, he had done even more for an 
individual. Stephen Mayhew had watched the boy 
grow and broaden and when he had left Gillfield he 
was as sure of what would happen within the Patrol 
as he was sure what would happen at the factory. 
He was a builder who knew every stone which went 
into his arches and the very last to neglect the key- 
stone. 

“ All right,” Joe at last agreed, “ I’ll do the best 
I can. There’s going to be times when we’ll all 
wish we had a Scout Master, and the Commis- 
sioner’ll probably want to assign some one to our 
patrol, but — ” 

“ Nothin’ doin’ ! ” broke in Harve. “ Not a leaf 
stirs in that neck of woods. I’m about the last guy 
who’d vote to start any mutiny, but Mr. Steve’s 
place can’t be filled. He’s in the service, and his 
place stays open till he comes back. Mr. Nelson is 
one good Commissioner and he’ll see what we mean 
and he’ll approve. That is,” he added, “he’ll ap- 
prove ’slong as we play the game. And we won’t 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 37 


do much of anything else when it means we’re doing 
it in Mr. Steve’s honor.” 

“ You bet we won’t! ” came the fervent chorus. 

“ Got a letter from Mr. Nelson in my pocket,” 
announced Joe, producing an envelope. “ Forgot 
all about it.” 

“ New leader’s making a fine young start,” 
chuckled Nelse. “ Going to bother to read the thing, 
Joey?” 

“ Thought I might.” 

“ That will be nice ! ” declared the enthusiastic 
Fat. “ How pleased Mr. Nelson will be when he 
learns of your generosity.” 

“ Oh, shut up! ” growled Field. 

“ Who woke you up ? ” demanded Wood. 

“ Order! ” Joe unfolded the sheet he drew from 
the envelope and began to read : — 

Members of the Wolf Patrol : — The campaign 
for subscriptions for the Third Liberty Loan will 
begin a week from date. Our organization has 
again been asked to play its part. Knowing the 
patriotism of all Scouts, I have accepted for the 
Gillfield organizations, without the unnecessary 
formality of consulting with the various patrols. 


38 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


Your Patrol is assigned the same territory and 
duties given it during the last campaign. Your 
leader will report to me on Wednesday afternoon 
at three for further instructions. Yours truly, 
George Nelson, 
Scout Commissioner. 

Joe folded the paper. “ What is your pleasure? ” 
he asked. 

44 Eating,” announced Harvey promptly. 44 But 
duty comes first. You be at that office at 2 145 
Wednesday and, when they give you our quota, look 
scared, then tell ’em we’ll raise just twice that 
amount.” 

“ That’s the talk ! ” 

44 Can’t beat the Wolves ! ” 

44 Not when it comes to trying to do our bit! ” 

“ We’ll raise all they ask us and then some,” de- 
clared Ned Field. “ We’ll sure do it. But how? 
Mr. Steve’s not -with us this time.” 

44 All the more reason to beat our old record. 
This is the 4 Mayhew drive.’ ” 

44 No, it’s not,” vetoed Joe promptly. 44 This is a 
drive for the United States.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 39 


“ That's right,, too." 

“ Trust old Joey to see things straight." 

“ Say, there’s one guy I choose," announced Fat. 
“ I went after him last Loan." 

“ Who?” 

“ Stone, Henry Stone." 

A quick frown passed over Joe’s face, but Nelse 
Pease laughed contemptuously. “ That’s just like 
Fat," he declared. “ Trust him to pick the easy 
ones." 

“ Is that so ? ’’ drawled Harve. “ What do you 
know about it, anyway ? ’’ 

“ I know you got $150 from him, and I know Mr. 
Steve went back with you and got another $100. If 
that isn’t easy, I’d like to know what is." 

“ Seeing the big committee had him down for 
$1500, seeing he told Mr. Nelson he’d only sub- 
scribe through the Scouts, seeing he’s rich, and seein’ 
we blasted only a sixth of what we wanted 
out of him, I don’t call it any cinch," protested Fat. 
“ Some of the things he said about the government 
wasting money, and not being called on to fight in 


40 THE BOY SCOUTS 

Europe, made me hot. I want another chance to 
talk to him.” 

“ Mr. Steve put in another $500 to make him 
take that last $100,” stated Field. “ Mr. Stone’s 
always been so generous in town no one could un- 
derstand why he was so tight about the Loan.” 

“ He told my father, when pa went to see him 
about it,” ventured Tug, “ that he had just paid for 
his house and didn’t have the money.” 

“ House, me eye! ” snorted Harve. “ That guy’s 
still a Hun. That’s what’s the matter with him.” 

There was nothing savoring of diplomacy or cau- 
tion in Foster’s charge. Little Tug’s eyes grew 
round with fear. “ Oh, Harve ! ” he protested. 

“ Yes, ‘ Oh, Harve! ’ ” Fat replied. “ I’ll tell you 
‘ Oh, Harve ! ’ That guy was born in Germany, 
brought up in Germany and, while he’s lived here 
ten years, is naturalized and has even changed his 
name from Heinrich Stein to Henry Stone, he’s still 
as much of a Hun under his big, fat skin as he was 
the day he ate his first dish of sauerkraut on the 
banks of the Rhine, or up in Prussia, or wherever 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 41 


it was they threw him out from. They say there’s 
only one kind of a good Indian but, believe me, even 
a dead Indian’s got something on a dead Hun. I 
don’t like ’em even dead. Stone’s a Hun,” he in- 
sisted. 

“ Then why’d he buy any Liberty Bonds ? ” de- 
manded Tug. 

Harvey looked pityingly at the youngster. “If 
I knew, I’d tell some one else,” he retorted. “ He’s 
always been white to me ; he bought two bonds from 
me after he’d refused every one else. But, just the 
same, I don’t like him. What’s more, I don’t trust 
him.” 

“ Old Mr. Mayhew seems to,” objected Alex. 
“ Stone’s worked at the plant ever since he came to 
Gillfield.” 

“ But Mr. Steve — ” 

“ Let Mr. Steve do his Own talking, Harve,” 
broke in Joe quickly. 

Foster was far from being as foolish as he was 
angry. “ Sure ! ” he agreed. “ But let me do mine, 
too. I’m going on record about this Stein-Stone 


42 THE BOY SCOUTS 

cootie now and for all time. Once a Hun, always 
a Hun. And you feel just the same way about him, 
too, Joe Lowell.” 


CHAPTER III 


OUT IN THE OPEN 

While the younger generation of Gillfield looked 
up to John Mayhew because he was the father of 
“ Mr. Steve,” the older generation respected the 
grim old man because he was the source of the 
town’s prosperity. For more than an hundred 
years a Mayhew had owned a factory in Gillfield. 
But it was “ the old boss,” as he was popularly called, 
who had developed the business into an industry, 
who had seen the conservatively amassed Mayhew 
fortune treble and treble again, and who, in the late 
fall of 1914, had seen the demand for shells across 
the sea and laid new plans according to his vision. 

The result had been that the Mayhew fortune 
was again in a fair way of being trebled. Mr. May- 
hew’s reputation was such that few of the delicate 
fuses for the long, glittering shells had been re- 


43 


44 THE BOY SCOUTS 

jected by the foreign inspectors. This proved both 
the value of honest workmanship and intelligent or- 
ganization, and, next to his own son, there was but 
one man in his employ whom the old boss prized 
higher. That was this same Henry Stone whom 
Harvey Foster had seen fit to dub an unspeakable 
Hun. 

The boy had been well within the truth when say- 
ing that Stone was once Stein. As Stein he had 
come to Gillfield from Drusseldorf, and, while that 
was ten years before, the man of twenty-six was not 
only an acknowledged, but a proved, expert on steel. 
Rather small, dark of hair and face and deliberate of 
manner, his first few years in the New England town 
had been wholly devoted to his work and his per- 
sonal affairs. Every one knew he had read much 
and written some. While it was popularly supposed 
his writings were largely for the technical papers of 
his native land, his reading was general and, after 
he had thoroughly mastered the English tongue, 
there were few in Gillfield who cared to argue with 
him a second time. Yet with his positiveness, he 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 45 

was polite to a degree, as good a listener as talker 
and, as a result, he gathered a certain amount of 
popularity among those who respected intellect. 

The taking out of his naturalization papers had 
created no ripple of interest. Gillfield could see 
nothing strange in any man’s wanting to be as much 
an American as the law would permit. Neither had 
his change of name created undue comment. Gill- 
field believed a man’s personal affairs were his own, 
so long as that man was a good citizen and obeyed 
the law. Therefore, Henry Stone had lived quietly, 
minded his own business and prospered, for John 
Mayhew recognized ability and rewarded it with 
advancement. 

Much to every one’s surprise, it had been George 
Nelson, the self-contained cashier of the Gillfield 
bank, who had deliberately challenged Mr. Stone in 
those days when the Hun horde was sweeping, vic- 
torious, through brave Belgium. Quietly, soberly, 
they had it out in the directors’ room behind the old- 
fashioned vault at the bank, and, while from then 
on there had been only the most formal friendship 


46 THE BOY SCOUTS 

visible between the two, Stone’s statements of his 
sympathies had apparently been accepted as satisfac- 
tory. The fact of his American citizenship, and his 
evident desire not to discuss the war, kept the rest of 
Gillfield from openly challenging his sentiments. 

But as time had passed, the patriotic townspeople 
more and more avoided Mr. Stone, and he was as 
quick to notice this as he was clever in dissembling 
any pain their aloofness may have caused him. At 
the best, his situation was unpleasant, and, so long 
as he did nothing to make it more so, the rest per- 
mitted him to go his way in peace. 

When America at last went in, Henry Stone spoke 
openly. Again it had been Mr. Nelson who had 
faced him, but this time, publicly, and Stone had 
frankly stated that, between the land of his birth 
and the land of his adoption, his choice had already 
been made. And that choice was recorded in his 
naturalization papers. But there were many in Gill- 
field who now gave him a still wider berth. He ac- 
cepted their decision without comment or show of 
feeling. Those noble souls, who believe good of all 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 47 


their fellow men, said his cross was heavy — but 
did not invite him to Sunday supper. 

It was this self-same Mr. Stone of whom Harvey 
and Joe Lowell spoke as they stood beside Mr. 
Nelson’s desk a week after Joe had been made leader 
of the Wolf Patrol. “ We’ve done even better than 
we hoped,” Joe acknowledged, “ but $50 and $100 
subscriptions don’t raise our total very fast. I 
guess that’s one reason why Harve wants permission 
to try Mr. Stone.” 

“ Your spirit’s good,” replied Mr. Nelson kindly, 
“ but don’t let that blind you to the main object. 
That’s over-subscribing Gillfield’s allotment to the 
Loan. And the way to do that is by team play. 
We’re a unit as a town, not merely individuals, or 
organizations, out for a little temporary glory. 
Frankly, I think one of the older men can get a 
larger subscription from Mr. Stone than Harvey 
can.” 

Fat shifted uncomfortable. “ Are you going 
after him yourself? ” he ventured. 

George Nelson would not have been selected as 


48 THE BOY SCOUTS 

Scout Commissioner had he not understood boys. 
“ Hadn’t thought of it,” he said with a smile. “ I 
rather thought we might get Mr. Mayhew to speak 
to him.” 

“ Haven’t a leg left to stand on,” admitted Fat 
promptly. “ All I can do now is ask for second 
chance, if the victim’s still suspected of having any 
pennies left on his person. But say, Mr. Nelson, 
can’t you slip the Wolves one good prospect? ” 

This time the man laughed. “ If I had one, I’d 
give it to some other patrol.” 

“ Thanks for them kind words of praise,” Fat 
grinned. “ Sorry to have wasted your time, sir. 
Good-by!” 

“ Hold on a minute,” ordered Mr. Nelson. 
“ Come here, both of you.” 

Surprised at his change of tone, the two moved 
back to his desk, but it was Joe who noticed the cash- 
ier glance beyond them, as if to see if any one else 
was within hearing. “ Why did you pick Henry 
Stone as a prospect? ” he demanded. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 49 


“ Because I think he's a Hun,” promptly replied 
the boy. 

For a long moment the man looked deep into the 
frank, blue eyes. “ That’s a pretty serious charge 
to make against a man these days,” he said soberly. 
“ What reason have you for your assertion? You 
must have some that cannot be contradicted.” 

“ I haven’t,” he admitted. “ I just don’t trust 
him, that’s all.” 

“ Then you’ve no right to lay such a charge 
against him,” declared the cashier. “ Even in war 
time, a man must be considered innocent until he’s 
proved guilty.” 

“ I’d let a few of them prove their innocence from 
the inside of a prison camp, if I had my way,” Har- 
vey mumbled, feeling he had been both misunder- 
stood and reproved. 

“ You’re not alone in that sentiment,” admitted 
Mr. Nelson ; “ yet I don’t believe either you, or the 
people who think like you, are entirely right. 
There’s a great deal going on in this country that 
we don’t know about, and a great deal that the 
authorities do know about, and that no one but the 


50 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


authorities know they do know. I think you’re 
quite safe in leaving any investigations to the men 
whose business it is to investigate, my boy.” 

“ You mean the secret service? ” 

“ Those two words mean a number of things 
these days, Joe. It’s a fairly good idea to take some 
things for granted and not go around asking too 
many questions.” 

“ That’s not fair,” protested Harvey. “ We 
come in here, and tell you things we’d never dream 
of telling any other man, and then you go and get 
us all excited about the one thing that interests us 
and end up by telling us not to be curious. I read 
the papers once in awhile and I know about the De- 
partment of Justice and all it’s doing.” 

Mr. Nelson chuckled. “ Maybe the Department 
doesn’t give all its secrets to the reporters,” he sug- 
gested; “ its officials certainly have done a good job 
so far. There are others equally busy, however. 
The A. P. L. is one of them.” 

“ What’s the A. P. L. ? ” Harvey leaned far 
over the edge of the desk. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 51 

“ American Protective League.” 

“ Never heard of it.” 

“ Neither have I,” said Joe. 

“ Thought you read the papers,” Mr. Nelson re- 
minded him. “ That’s a bit unfair, though. The 
League isn’t advertising over-much. But, if you 
had persisted in your literary efforts, Harve, you’d 
have found out that the League was started as a 
great volunteer organization, with members in every 
town and city in the United States, who did — and 
do — all they can to help the country in any way 
possible. If a member hears something he believes 
the people in Washington should know about, he in- 
forms the proper person. I imagine the people at 
Washington also ask the League members to investi- 
gate once in awhile, also.” 

“ Have we a League here in Gillfield? ” demanded 
Harvey. 

“ I presume so.” 

“ Who belongs?” 

“ That may be something a lot of others might 
like to know, youngster.” 


52 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Bet you’re head of it,” exploded the admiring 
Harve. 

“ There you go, jumping at conclusions again,” 
warned the man. “ Only one thing you can be sure 
of, and that is that a member of any of the three 
great organizations which have done so much to foil 
the Germans over here, does not go about announc- 
ing his affiliations.” 

“ But what’s the third one?” asked Joe. 
“ You’ve told us about the League, and every one 
knows about the Department of Justice.” 

“ And it’s equally true that comparatively few 
know the first thing about the third strong arm.” 

“ But what’s it called ? ” 

“ It’s such a tight little body, Joe, that those who 
are aware of its existence don’t talk about it. About 
all I know is that there is such a thing and that it’s 
doing wonderful work. So,” he added, “ you can 
be fairly sure that, if Mr. Stone is doing anything 
he should not do, some one is rather more than apt 
to be watching him. I’ve told you all this so that 
you wouldn’t do or say anything foolish and spoil 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 53 

work that others may be doing. I know that you 
will consider it all between us three.” 

“ Of course.’' 

“ Sure, we’ll keep mum,” agreed Harvey. “ One 
reason why we will is because you haven’t told us 
anything.” 

“ Well,” retorted the man, with a smile, “ you may 
be right. But even if you are, don’t talk. There 
are a lot of people talking these days who wouldn’t 
make half so much noise if they knew who was lis- 
tening to them. One thing I will tell you, and I 
don’t care how much you repeat it, and that is that 
the United States has mighty sharp ears ! ” 

“ Mine feel longer every minute,” grinned Fatty. 
“ Come on, Joe; let’s get out of here before I begin 
to bray.” 

Once more on the sidewalk, the boys paused in 
the warm spring sunshine, undecided which way to 
turn and just what to do. Gillfield’s main street 
was bright with its war flags, and posters of the 
Loan made vivid appeals from every store window. 
“ We’ve got to find a big fish,” declared Harvey, 


54 THE BOY SCOUTS 

moodily. “ Wonder if old Cole would take another 
$500?” 

“ He told us to see him to-morrow,” Lowell re- 
minded him. “ Next to Mr. Mayhew, Mr. Cole 
buys more bonds than any one here.” 

“If any one else tells me something I know al- 
ready,” wailed Fat, “ I’ll sit down on the curb and 
blub. Gee, but Mr. Nelson was a crab not to loosen ! 
I’d rather know about the secret service than any- 
thing.” 

“ What do you suppose that third thing he was 
talking about, is ? ” 

“ Dunno, and I guess I’m not apt to.” 

“ Well, forget it.” 

“ You’ve got about as much curiosity as a fish,” 
snorted Fat. “ Come on while I sell a bond.” 

While it was customary for Harvey to follow, 
this afternoon he assumed the leadership. For 
once in his short life, Joe Lowell appeared to be 
lacking in resource. It was not because his heart 
was not in his work, but because it had been too 
much in it, and, rack his brains as he would, he 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 55 

could think of none whose name appeared on the 
Scouts’ rather restricted list of possible buyers, 
whom he, or some other member of the Patrol, had 
not interviewed. He was sure the Wolves had sold 
more bonds than any of their rivals, but, this time, 
they had determined to get twice as many pledges as 
any other body of Gillfield Scouts, and he knew that 
to do this, they would have to get one really big 
subscription. For two hours they made another 
house-to-house canvass, but pledges for $100 were 
the net result. 

It was almost six o’clock when, at last, they turned 
up the hill toward their homes and even Fat had 
lost some of his enthusiasm. “ This town’s got 
about as much patriotism as a sick clam ! ” he 
growled. 

“ It’s going to exceed its quota by twenty-five per 
cent,” contradicted Joe belligerently. “ Trouble is, 
it’s been raked clean.” 

Harvey did a bit of mental arithmetic as he am- 
bled. “ ’S near as I can figure offhand,” he an- 
nounced, “we fellows have got to get $135° m 


56 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


pledges, if we’re going to go over the top. And I'll 
bet the rest of the crowd haven’t raised as much to- 
day as we have. They — ” 

“ Foster ! ” 

It was a command in its sharp insistence and they 
spun around in their surprise. “ Oh, gee! ” gasped 
Fat. “ Stone ! * Where do we go from here, 

boys ? ’ ” 

The same thought was in the minds of both boys 
as the man caught up with them. It was as charac- 
teristic that he did not hurry, as that he did not 
show the impatience he felt because they had not 
met him more than half way. At least in one thing, 
the German- American reached the acme of perfec- 
tion — none could read from his expression what 
was going on in his mind. It was equally character- 
istic that he should fall into step between the two. 
Somehow or other, he always managed to divide 
any group he came in contact with. 

“ I have been expecting you at the office for three 
days, Joe.” he said, taking hold of the boy’s elbow 
in friendly fashion, “ and, expecting you, I naturally 



m 


m 


r, iA, 




i i 




THEY SPUN AROUND IN THEIR SURPRISE 



OF THE WOLF PATROL 57 

looked for this big, good-natured shadow of yours. 
Why have you neglected me ? ” 

“ Don’t think we have,” grunted Fat, who hated 
to have any one but a friend refer to his bulk. 

“ Aren’t you peddling bonds this time? ” 

“ No,” flared Harvey. “ You don’t have to ped- 
dle Liberty Bonds.” 

The man laughed. “What a young hotspur!” 
he exclaimed. “ Certainly I meant no slur on our 
country’s bonds, as none should know better than 
you, who sold me the last I purchased.” 

“ You made us work, all right, all right,” Harvey 
retorted, with a short laugh. 

“ Of course I made you work,” came the hearty 
response ; “ you were making your initial bow as a 
salesman and I did my best to show my interest in 
Gillfield by teaching one of its young men some of 
the problems he will have to face in later life.” 

“ Oh! ” 

The man looked at Foster keenly. That exclama- 
tion did not contain the germ of real enthusiasm. 
“ Never mind,” he said negligently. “ Perhaps 


58 THE BOY SCOUTS 

you’ll be more appreciative in later years. I’ve al- 
ways been interested in you two boys and I’m always 
glad, and always will be glad, to do anything I can 
to help either of you.” 

“ That’s certainly kind in you.” Joe felt that his 
friend might have been too blunt. 

“ Not at all, youngster. But one thing has hurt 
me. I thought you’d come around for my Loan 
subscription this time.” 

“ You’re not on our list.” 

“What’s that matter, Harvey?” He paused as 
they came opposite the gate of his attractive home. 
“ Step into the house for a minute,” he suggested; 
“ I want to talk this -over with you both.” 

“ I’m late for supper now,” Harvey answered. 
“ I’d like nothing better than to sell you a couple 
of thousand dollars’ worth of bonds, but you’re not 
on our list.” 

“ A couple of thousand dollars’ worth ! ” Mr. 
Stone seemed really amused. “ That is one of the 
most subtle pieces of flattery I have come across. 
Just because you’re developing into such a diplomat, 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 59 

Harvey, I believe I’ll give you my subscription, 
whether you want it or not.” 

The man’s merriment was apparently so genuine 
that Harvey joined in his laughter. “ Nothin’ do- 
in’, sir!” he replied. “We’ve been told to keep 
hands off.” 

“ By whom?” 

The question was so sharp that Fat was sure that 
he had said something he should have left unsaid. 
But, before he could recover his rather slow moving 
wits, Joe stepped into the breach. “ By the execu- 
tive committee,” he explained. “ When we Scouts 
were assigned the territory we were to solicit in, we 
were warned not to interfere with any of the busi- 
ness men. From what I know of the general lines 
of the campaign, sir, your subscription will go in 
with those from the Mayhew office.” 

“ Oh ! Then I’m to have nothing to say as to 
whom my money goes.” 

“ It all goes toward helping lick the Hun,” stated 
Harvey. 

“ I’m aware of its ultimate intent,” retorted Mr. 


60 THE BOY SCOUTS 

Stone. “ What I question, is the right of any com- 
mittee to tell me, or any other citizen of this free 
country, what I shall do, or what I shall not do, with 
money I have earned and which I intend to invest 
in my own way.” 

“ That’s something you’ll have to talk over with 
Mr. Mayhew or Mr. Nelson,” confessed Joe; “ it’s 
over my head. We Scouts need all the subscriptions 
we can get — there’s no argument about that. But 
we have to get them according to the rules. We 
play the game, you know, sir.” 

“ But I don’t see any sense to such rules,” retorted 
the man. 

“ Neither do I,” grunted Fat. 

The man turned on him. “ Good enough ! ” he 
exclaimed. “ I’m glad to see you have the courage 
to say what you think. It goes to show you believe 
in asserting your individuality. That is always 
healthy.” 

Joe Lowell was dumbfounded. He saw that his 
friend had been trapped and he had a vague feel- 
ing that there was something very wrong in what 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 61 


the man implied. “ Harvey never believes in any 
rules when he’s hungry,” he announced, with an easy 
laugh ; “ and he’s already said he was late for sup- 
per. He’ll feel better, after he’s eaten for an hour 
or so.” 

Mr. Stone smiled. “ I see you know your human 
nature as well as your history,” he said, “ but neither 
Harvey nor I are plotting any revolution founded on 
the empty stomach propaganda. Seriously, how- 
ever, I want to do something for you boys. You’re 
the right sort and I thoroughly approve of the way 
you do things. For that reason, I’m going to insist 
on your taking my subscription and I’m going to 
make it a big one. Give me one of your pledge 
cards, Harvey, and I’ll sign up for three one-hun- 
dred-dollar bonds.” 

“ I’ve told you we can’t take it,” retorted Joe. 
“ I’m sorry, but — ” 

“ Suppose I refuse to give it to any one else? ” 

“ I can’t help that, sir. All we can do is follow 
orders. If you want to give your big subscription 
through the office at the factory, and then give us 


62 THE BOY SCOUTS 

three hundred dollars, we’ll be only too grateful 
for the extra.” 

“ The extra ! You talk as if I were planning to 
take a thousand.” 

“ Aren’t you ? ” Harvey’s voice was once more 
bland and innocent. 

“ I’m not. I’m far from being even well-to-do. 
Three hundred is all I can afford to give and I’ll 
give that only to you.” 

“ You’re not * giving ’ to any one,” corrected Fat; 
“ you’re loaning to your — to the United States.” 

“ I don’t like your implication, young man,” Mr. 
Stone said sharply. “ The United States is my 
adopted country. While I may be of German birth, 
neither to you, nor any of the people of this town, 
have I given cause to doubt my loyalty. What 
others think, matters little to me. While I am 
aware that there is a certain spirit of hostility to 
me here, I only am aware as to how ungrounded it 
is and how little it affects me.” He stopped and 
the smile came back to his lips. “ Why am I talk- 
ing thus ? ” he asked. “ Because I like you young- 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 63 

sters and I imagine that what you think really does 
matter to me.” 

It was so frankly said that Harvey, the bellicose, 
felt momentarily ashamed. “ Guess you’re right,” 
he admitted uncomfortably. 

“ Guess I am. Now give me that pledge card 
and then we’ll all go to supper and feel better.” 

“ And you’ll give Mr. Mayhew what he asks 
for, too?” 

“ Oh, oh ! So it’s Mr. Mayhew who has my 
name, is it? ” 

Too late Harvey appreciated his break and hated 
himself accordingly. Thoroughly mad, he threw 
caution to the winds and leaped into the dark. “ It 
is,” he blazed, “ and it’s because you suspected it 
that you’ve waylaid us. You thought we’d fall for 
your piker’s subscription and that would let you out 
with him. But you get one more guess.” 

“ You’ve said about enough, my young friend.” 

“ I’m not ‘ your young friend,’ or any other sort 
of friend, you — ” 

“ Quit it, Harve ! ” ordered Joe sharply. 


64 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ I’m not going to quit till I’m through,” he 
stormed on. “ I’ve been made a fool of once to- 
night and I’m going to have my say out now and be 
done with it.” He flashed around on the outwardly 
calm man again. “ I don’t know what your game 
is, but I’m going to find out. You’ve been trying 
to work us and I came mighty near biting. I got 
your subscription for the Second Loan, but I had to 
have help. You haven’t had a change of heart with- 
out some mighty good reason. I’m trying to earn 
two dollars a week to pay for my $50 bond, but 
you’re trying to get by with three hundred, and earn- 
ing that much a month. Something’s wrong some- 
where. I may be the only one in Gillfield who 
thinks so, but I do think so, and I wouldn’t take 
your subscription now for a thousand bonds, if you 
planked down the cash. I don’t like you. I don’t 
trust you. I don’t want anything to do with you. 
Come on, Joe, my supper’s ready.” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE LION’S DEN 

If Harvey Foster thought he could empty his 
hot young head without reaping anything in the way 
of personal harvest, events proved his judgment as 
faulty as his tongue was loose. Henry Stone’s life 
in Gillfield had, heretofore, been one uncolored by 
verbal protests, yet now he lost no time in formally 
recounting his interview with Harvey to Mr. Foster 
and, with equal formality, demanding that the lad 
apologize. Mr. Stone did not suggest the alterna- 
tive of Harvey’s submitting proof of his assertions; 
neither did Mr. Foster appear to consider that his 
son had any grounds for claiming such privilege. 

But when the quickly culminated crisis was pre- 
sented to big, good-natured Harvey, he surprised 
every one with frank and open rebellion. He abso- 
lutely and utterly refused to have anything further 
to do, or say, with Mr. Henry Stone. Pleadings, 


65 


66 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


arguments and threats failed to budge him from his 
position. He had fired his guns and he stood fast 
by the smoking muzzles, his jaw set and his head up. 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Foster were dumbfounded at 
what they felt was their son’s unpardonable rude- 
ness and unreasonable mutiny against their au- 
thority. They were positive that the outraged 
man, once he had started to force the issue, would 
not let the affair drop, but they were equally sur- 
prised when no further demands came from him. 
Mr. Foster’s explanation was that Stone had done 
all that a dignified gentleman could do; Mrs. Fos- 
ter’s that he had successfully brought shame upon 
the Foster home, and Fat’s that “ the guy’s bluff 
didn’t work.” Which latter explanation did not add 
to the not happy atmosphere of the Foster home. 

Old Boss Mayhew, who was commonly reputed 
to hear every leaf which fell from a Gillfield tree 
and to know the reason thereof, got wind of the af- 
fair through some of the murmurings of his grape- 
vine system. While he considered Stone one of the 
most valuable men in his plant, he was not so enthus- 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 67 

iastic over Nathan Foster who, by long years of 
service, had risen to an assistant-foremanship in one 
of the finishing rooms. He was frankly furious 
when, on going through his office, in person, for 
Loan subscriptions, Mr. Stone signed for a $100 
bond and haughtily refused to listen to protests. 
He had offered a larger subscription; it had been 
rudely refused. Anything further he might do 
would be done outside* Gillfield, where broader peo- 
ple held more tolerant views. The old boss put the 
whole affair squarely up to Mr. Nelson and, at the 
same time, had a few things to say about the Scouts 
which the commissioner did not think would do for 
any advertising campaign. 

The majority of the elders, who heard either the 
true story, or one of its many highly colored varia- 
tions, had scant sympathy with the boy. There was 
no disputing the fact that Harvey Foster had, as he 
would have expressed it himself, “ gotten in Dutch. ” 
His one comfort, and a real shock to men like Mr. 
Nelson — was the attitude of Joe Lowell. Yet it 
would not have been Joe, if he had run around talk- 


68 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


ing with every one. But it was the real Joe who 
said little but clung to Fat Foster closer than ever. 
There was absolutely no question in any one’s mind 
that the best-liked boy in the town was risking his 
reputation by standing squarely behind a friend in 
trouble. 

Beyond a doubt the Foster-Stone incident played 
a major part in the minor results which accrued to 
the Loan campaign of the Wolf Patrol. Whenever 
one of its members approached a likely prospect, 
said prospect either frankly said he did not approve 
of the Patrol’s methods and would give his subscrip- 
tion elsewhere, or tried to pump the details of the 
Foster eruption from an embarrassed lad. Joe had 
promised to raise double their quota ; it now seemed 
beyond the limits of the possible for the boys to 
come within a thousand dollars of the limit of their 
goal. And a thousand dollars is a lot of money for 
boys to raise. 

The final week of the drive dragged out its painful 
course for the Wolves. Word filtered over the 
mountain from Kendallville that the Beavers, the 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 69 


Wolves’ great rival in the district, had gone over 
their quota with flying colors. This victory for the 
Beavers was bad enough, but what made the situa- 
tion even worse, was that the Fox Patrol, its mem- 
bership composed of some of the youngest Gillfield 
boys, had secured a thousand-dollar subscription 
from some unknown source and, with only $200 to 
raise to beat the quota of the Wolves, was loudly and 
openly campaigning for the scalps of Joe Lowell and 
his seven now desperate followers. 

While Joe said nothing, he felt the situation 
keenly. Failure to raise the full quota meant the 
Wolves’ first failure to make good. But it was not 
because such failure would reflect upon his newly 
acquired leadership that the boy worried; it was 
because he had a very definite conviction that, un- 
less the Wolves went over the top in this drive, 
they would have failed to back up Mr. Steve. That 
was more than he could bear. 

The last day of the campaign came. The final 
meeting of the Loan Committee that night promised 
to be a great affair, for it was more than whispered 


70 THE BOY SCOUTS 

that Gillfield would exceed, not only her quota, but 
her record. All that Saturday morning the Wolves 
worked like real soldiers, but at noon were forced 
to admit that they were $850 short of their pledged 
quota. It was Tug who had reported that the Foxes 
had raised their required $200. Doomed to be poor 
and defeated seconds, gloom settled deep upon the 
eight. 

“ There’s only one man who can help us out,” de- 
clared Joe gloomily; “ I’ll go see him this after- 
noon.” 

“ Who is he? ” The chorus was more mournful 
than curious. 

“ Mr. Mayhew.” 

“ Whew!” 

“ You’ve heard what he said about us.” 

“ Swell chance!” exploded Nick. “All you’ll 
get will be a trimming. Better set Fat on Stone 
again.” 

“ Forget that stuff! ” growled Harvey. “ I’ll at- 
tend to my own affairs.” 

“None of that!” Joe ordered sharply. “We 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 71 


fellows are a unit and don’t any of you forget it.” 

“ What sort of argument are you going to 
make? ” asked Alex listlessly. “ They say the Boss 
has taken $50,000 worth.” 

“ Dunno,” admitted the leader. “ We’ll say 
something.” 

“We! Who’s we?” 

“ Fat and I.” 

“ Fat!” 

“ Gee! ” 

“ Why not go explode a real bomb in his office? ” 

Harvey got slowly to his feet. They all looked 
for an explosion as a result of this startling sugges- 
tion. Expectation, however, turned to an audible 
gasp. “ You’re on! ” agreed the big fellow quickly. 
“ Let’s go.” 

For two heated minutes the other six tried to per- 
suade the crusaders to reconsider, to allow some 
other pair to take their places, to do almost any- 
thing, but to no purpose. Joe had made a sugges- 
tion ; Harvey could be as blindly loyal as his friend. 

The two were strangely silent as they approached 


72 THE BOY SCOUTS 

the one-storied brick office building which stood be- 
tween the old part of the Mayhew plant and the 
new. It was familiar ground to both, yet this after- 
noon both felt a certain dread as they turned in at 
the gate. “ Better see your father first,” suggested 
Fat, in a gruff voice. 

Joe shook his head. “ We’re here to see Mr. 
Mayhew.” 

“Sure! Just made the suggestion, that’s all.” 

But, as they entered the office, Mr. Lowell was 
hurrying past the door. He stopped abruptly. 
“ Hello, boys,” he greeted them ; “ what brings you 
here ? ” 

“ Want to see Mr. Mayhew, dad.” 

A strange expression came into the superintend- 
ent’s eyes. He knew his own son, and he thought 
he knew Harvey Foster, yet he could imagine but 
one reason which could have brought them into what 
promised to be a lion’s den. And, while Mr. Lowell 
was as loyal to the Mayhews as he had been when 
he first began to w T ork for the old boss as an errand 
boy, down in his secret heart of hearts he had an 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 73 


unbreathed suspicion that Fatty Foster had spoken 
a good deal of truth during his now famous Stone 
oration. That they should have come to apologize 
struck him queerly, yet he believed he understood 
their motive and respected them for their manliness, 
even if he did not approve of their surrender. 
“ Mr. Mayhew’s busy just now,” he said quietly. 
“ Sit down here and wait, or come into my office, 
if you’d rather.” 

“ Guess we’ll wait here by the door,” sighed Fat. 

The man glanced at the anxious face and chuc- 
kled in spite of himself. “All right,” he agreed; 
“ but there’s a window in my office, Harve.” 

“ This is Joe’s party,” the boy retorted. “ I don’t 
need a window; I guess it’s a running start for 
mine.” 

Mr. Lowell stopped, looked at the two again, saw 
that his first guess had been a poor one, turned 
quickly and went into his own room. “ Whatever 
they do,” he muttered, “ those two lads will stand on 
their own feet. They’ve learned not to talk too 
much again.” 


74 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


Yet, in spite of his confidence in them, he found 
it convenient to pass across his doorway three times 
within the next fifteen minutes. He was curious 
to see how the two would endure what he knew must 
be a long wait and he was anxious that they carry 
through their unknown mission, once they had be- 
gun it. Also he was a bit disturbed as to their re- 
ception, for he knew that the old boss was in one 
of his bearlike moods — and with just cause. For 
the first time, the inspectors had rejected a big con- 
signment of finished fuses and Mr. Mayhew felt the 
shame of that rejection far more than he did the 
financial loss. Where the Mayhew reputation was 
touched, the old boss sought reasons with no light 
paw. 

Both boys jumped when the door to his private 
office opened with a jerk. One flushed red and the 
other went white as Henry Stone stalked out, his 
face set. “ And see you find out, and report to me, 
mighty promptly,” they heard Mr. Mayhew roar 
after him. 

It was more than evident that Mr. Stone’s inter- 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 75 

view had not been entirely to his liking. As he 
passed, Joe spoke, as he had always done when meet- 
ing him at the plant, but this time Stone did not re- 
spond. His whole attitude was that of a man too 
intent on pressing business to give thought to any 
such minor details as two boys. 

^ Still fond of us, ain’t he!” Fat observed, un- 
der his breath. “ Bet he’s been getting his and hope 
he got it good and plenty.” 

“ Forget him,” Joe advised. “ Come on.” 

Both on account of his father’s position, and be- 
cause of his many visits to Stephen Mayhew, Joe 
was a more or less privileged character in the office, 
where every one seemed to be his friend. For that 
reason none stopped the two as they walked to Mr. 
Mayhew’s door and stood in silence, waiting for the 
old gentleman to notice them. 

Seated at an old-fashioned roll-top desk, the 
white-haired man was glaring at a sheet of figures 
from beneath bushy, iron-gray brows. His face 
was red and smooth shaven, his jaw belligerently 
square, his broad shoulders even squarer and his 


76 THE BOY SCOUTS 

gray eyes of the kind which glow in spite of their 
color. His whole attitude was of rigid, open anger 
and, from time to time, his thin nostrils quavered 
as he puffed indignantly. When, at last, he felt 
the two pairs of eyes fixed on him, he glowered over 
the top of his paper. “Well, well!” he barked. 
“ What are you doing there ? What do you 
want ? ” 

“ We’d like to talk with you for a minute, sir.” 
It was Joe who spoke. 

“ Too busy. Can’t bother with you. Come in.” 
That, too, was characteristic, and Joe, who loved 
the old gentleman, instead of mortally fearing him, 
as did most of the boys, advanced confidently into 
the room. “ We’re Boy Scouts,” he began. 

“ So I’ve heard,” broke in Mr. Mayhew sharply. 
“ Heard all about you.” He turned on Fat. 
“ You’re the nincompoop who called my Mr. Stone 
pro-German,” he charged. 

“ Not quite, sir,” contradicted Harvey. 

The man stiffened, the paper fell to the desk and, 
wheeling round in his chair, he placed a great hand 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 77 

on either knee and fixed his glowing eyes on the lad. 
“Not backing water, are you, young fellow ?” he 
roared. 

“ No, sir, I’m not.” 

“ Can’t prove anything against him, can you ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Father and mother don’t approve of what you’ve 
done, do they ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Mr. Nelson given you fits, hasn’t he? ” 

" Yes, sir.” 

“ Whole town thinks you made a blithering idiot 
of yourself, doesn’t it? ” 

“ I don’t care what the town thinks,” flared Fat, 
beginning to get angry under such sharp catechism. 

“ Umph ! Don’t you ? ” He leaned back in his 
chair and looked the lad over from head to foot. 
“You’ve got spirit, anyway,” he announced; “you 
may be a fool, but you’ve got a fool’s courage in 
your convictions. What do you want, Joe?” 

“ We came up to see if you wouldn’t give us an 
additional bond subscription, sir. We know — ” 


78 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Never mind what you know. You’ve told your 
errand; don’t enlarge on it. Not good business.” 

“ Will you give us* one, sir?” 

“ No.” 

“ But, sir — ” 

“ I said no,” snapped Mr. Mayhew, reaching for 
his papers. 

“ But, sir — ” 

" Said no,” reiterated the old gentleman. “ No 
argument about it.” 

“ Is it because you’re sore at our Patrol because I 
told Stone what I thought'of him? ” blurted the des- 
perate Harvey. 

Mr. Mayhew swung around again. “ What if it 
is ? ” he demanded. “ What would you do about it 
— apologize to him ? ” 

“ No, sir,” declared the boy hotly. 

“ Then what would you do ? ” 

“ Ask you to play fair with the other fellows. 
Not take it out on them for what I may have done 
or said.” 

Mr. Mayhew was beginning to enjoy this large, 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 79 


fat boy who didn’t seem afraid to say what he 
thought. Too many people cringed before the all- 
powerful old boss to suit him. He was far from 
being a bully by nature; rather he was a sportsman 
who was always on the lookout for some flint which 
would answer his steel with sparks. “ Told Nelson 
what I thought of his Scouts,” he said; “care to 
have me repeat it ? ” 

“ Guess we wouldn’t especially enjoy it,” Fat ad- 
mitted, with a sheepish grin. “ Heard you treated 
us sorter rough.” 

“Did, did you? I did. You deserved it.” 

“ If I did, the others didn’t. I only spoke for 
myself, sir. I’ll get out and you buy some bonds 
from Joe.” 

“ Said I wouldn’t buy any more bonds, young 
man.” 

“ But we only want you to take another thousand 
dollars’ worth,” explained Joe. 

“ Another thousand ! ” exclaimed the man. 
“Only another thousand? I like your impudence! 
Here you bring with you the boy who says I’m em- 


80 THE BOY SCOUTS 

ploying a pro-German and have the impudence to 
ask me for a thousand dollars.” 

“ I didn’t say you were employing a Hun,” de- 
clared Harvey stoutly. 

“ You think so, don’t you ? ” snapped Mr. May- 
hew. 

“ I didn’t say anything about you, one way or the 
other.” 

“ But you think so, don’t you ? ” he reiterated. 

“ Mr. Nelson advised me to keep my thoughts to 
myself, sir. I guess it’s pretty good advice.” 

“ Found it out too late, didn’t you? ” 

“ I found it out.” The boy was willing to admit 
that much. 

“ Why do you suspect Stone ? ” The question 
crackled like lightning. 

“ Just naturally don’t like him.” 

“ Why?” 

“Dunno; just don’t.” 

“ Instinct, eh ? Bad things to follow sometimes, 
young man, — sometimes not. Anyway, you take 
Nelson’s advice and don’t think out loud. Any time 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 81 


you’re tempted to, come here and do it. That is,” 
he added, “ if you’ve anything worth talking about.” 

Dumbfounded at such an invitation, Harvey 
looked first at the openly amazed Joe, then back at 
Mr. Mayhew’s sober face. “ Mr. Nelson told us 
to come to him with anything we heard,” he stam- 
mered. 

“ How many people have you told that to? ” de- 
manded the man sharply. 

“ No one, sir.” It was Joe who answered this 
time. 

“ What else did he tell you? ” 

“ I don’t want to be rude, Mr. Mayhew, but, if 
you want an answer to that, you’ll have to get it 
from Mr. Nelson.” 

“ Is that so! How about Harvey’s telling me? 
I think his instinct’s working again and telling him 
he can trust me.” 

Harvey Foster grinned — a thing he had never 
expected to do within half a mile of the old boss. 
“ The old instinct’s right on the job,” he said, “ but 
it’s sorter telling me, sir, to be a human clam.” 


82 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Mean you don’t trust me, either? ” 

“ Mean you know a heap more about a lot of 
things than we two boys will ever guess, sir.” 

“ Umph ! ” The old gentleman glanced, keenly 
from one to the other. Then, to the surprise of 
both, heaved himself out of his chair, strode across 
the room, slammed the door and returned to his 
desk, a new and decidedly puzzling expression on his 
face. “ Said you didn’t want to hear what I told 
Nelson about Boy Scouts,” he began. “ Glad you 
don’t. It was wrong. Might have known I was, 
or my own boy wouldn’t be mixed up with you 
youngsters.” He sat down heavily and picked up 
a paper knife, bending it between strong fingers as 
he talked. 

“ Will you go to Mr. Stone and apologize, Fos- 
ter ? ” he asked abruptly. 

“ No, sir.” There was no mistaking the positive- 
ness in the boy’s tone. 

“ Not if I ask you to? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

" Why? ” 



PICKED UP A PAPER KNIFE, BENDING IT BETWEEN STRONG 
FINGERS AS HE TALKED ” 












1 







' tr 














































OF THE WOLF PATROL 83 

“ ’Cause I won’t go back on what I said, for one 
reason,” Fat stated, “ an’ ’cause I won’t do some- 
thin’ for you I wouldn’t do for my father and 
mother.” 

“TJmph! Do it if I convince you it’s necessary 
to your country that you do so?” 

“ Yes, sir.” The answer came like a flash. 

“ Good! Sized you up that way. Not going to 
ask you to do it, though. Wanted to try a little ex- 
periment.” 

Foster’s face grew red. “ That wasn’t necessary, 
sir,” he said gravely. 

“ Maybe not. Didn’t do any harm ; sorter cleared 
the air. When we get talking about our country, 
some of us understand each other a heap better these 
days. I’m an old man, sort of a crank, maybe. 
Can’t fight myself. Only good enough to make 
things for real men to fight with. Try to do my bit 
my own way. Need help, though. All of us need 
help. Country needs all our help. Got to win the 
war.” 


“ We’re going to win,” declared Joe. 


84 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Of course. Can’t do it by saying so, though. 
Huns think we’re just boasting. Don’t want us to 
do anything else. Don’t intend to let us do anything 
else. Going to fool ’em. But,” he declared, “ we 
can’t fool them by guessing or talking or following 
instincts. You boys trust Nelson; will you trust 
me, if I give my word that I’ve as much right to 
know things as he has ? Only my word, mind you. 
My word and no questions.” 

“ Sure ! ” agreed Harvey promptly. 

“ Yes, sir,” stated Joe, with equal heartiness. 

There was no mistaking the old boss’s pleasure 
at their quick consent. One would have thought 
that the Mayhew word was being accepted at par 
for the first time in Gillfield history. “ But it is 
only to Nelson and me that you are to go,” he 
warned ; “ don’t forget, only us two. And I want 
you to come to me at once with every rumor, with 
every queer story, with anything your instinct, your 
brains or your imagination hints that I should know. 
Especially I want anything which has to do with the 
plant or the men employed here.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 85 


“ You mean we’re to be sorter private detectives 
for you ? ” There was a thrill in Harvey’s voice at 
the idea. 

Mr. Mayhew chuckled in spite of the seriousness 
of his thoughts. “ Call yourselves what you want,” 
he replied ; “ all I want is results. Going to do it ? ” 

“ Rather ! ” 

“ I should say we were,” agreed Joe heartily. 
“ We’ve all wanted a chance to help.” 

“ All ? ” repeated Mr. Mayhew. 

“ Eight are better than two,” explained Joe stead- 
ily. “ The other six fellows in the Wolves are just 
as loyal, and just as anxious to do their bit, as Harve 
and I. They want their chance; please let them 
have it, sir. Mr. Steve taught us lots of things be- 
fore he went away. He’d say to take us all, I 
know.” 

“ Umph!” 

“ Joe’s right,” asserted Harvey. “ Eight’s bet- 
ter than two.” 

Plainly, Mr. Mayhew did not relish the sugges- 
tion. “ We’ll begin with two,” he stated, with 


86 THE BOY SCOUTS 

surprising mildness. “ Better trust me entirely.” 

“ We weren’t doing anything else,” explained Joe, 
eagerly. “ We were only trying to help, that’s all.” 

“ That’s all you think you were trying to do,” re- 
torted the man, with one of his rare smiles. “ Have 
an idea, though, that you were trying to be unselfish. 
Good trait. Like you better for it. Call the whole 
thing settled now. You’re working for me.” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Anything more? ” 

“ Guess not, sir.” 

“ No, sir.” 

They began to edge toward the door, Mr. May- 
hew watching them quizzically from beneath his 
bushy brows. Just as Joe put his hand on the knob, 
the man spoke. “ What did you come here for?” 
he demanded. 

“ To get a Liberty Loan subscription,” replied 
Joe promptly. 

“Got it?” 

“ No, sir.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 87 

“ Going without getting what you came to get, are 
you?” 

“ You said you wouldn’t subscribe for more, sir.” 
“ Oh!” 

“ Won’t you change your mind? ” ventured Har- 
vey. 

“ Never change my mind.” 

Joe Lowell had learned to make up his own mind 
quickly and, for the last thirty seconds, an idea had 
been working there. He left the door and returned 
to the desk. “ You’ve asked us to work for you,” 
he said steadily. “ All Gillfield knows that you 
don’t like your employees to fail. We’re mighty 
near failure. If you don’t feel as if you could take 
the bonds yourself, will you give us some advice 
about whom to sell them to ? 99 

The idea of some one’s trying to bargain with him 
tickled the old gentleman, but he hid his feelings to 
perfection. “ Wouldn’t take good advice if you got 
it,” he grunted. 

“ Try us and see, sir.” 


88 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


" Mean it?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ All right. Buy the thousand yourselves.” 

Joe gasped; then that gasp turned to frank laugh- 
ter. “ Fve promised to buy a fifty-dollar bond,” he 
confessed, “ and Fve got to work all summer to earn 
the two dollars a week to pay for it. Fat’s in the 
same boat.” 

“ All right. You asked my advice ; Fve given it.” 

The boy, in spite of his confusion, caught the 
twinkle in the depths of the gray eyes. “ How can 
we do it? ” he gulped. “ Tell us? ” 

“ Might borrow the money for the first payment. 
Could sell your interest before the second was due.” 

“ That wouldn’t be playing fair to the United 
States.” 

The twinkle spread to a pleased smile. “ Glad 
you see it. Thought you would. All right. Bor- 
row it all.” 

“No one would lend it to us. Couldn’t pay it 
t>ack, if any one did.” 

“ Working for me now? ” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 89 

“ Yes, sir. Do you mean that you’d — you’d 
lend it to us? ” he blurted. “ But we couldn’t pay 
you, sir; honestly, we couldn’t.” 

“ Asked you to yet ? ” 

“ But — but — ” Harvey wanted to say many 
things but couldn’t find any words. 

“ See here,” rumbled Mr. Mayhew, “ you want to 
do something. I want to do something. Mighty 
poor business, your trying to argue us all out of it. 
Maybe I’m sorry for what I said about the Scouts. 
Maybe I’m interested in you because my boy’s inter- 
ested in you boys. Maybe I’ve another reason. 
That’s my affair. Here’s my proposition. Take it 
or leave it. Each of you subscribe to $500 worth of 
bonds. I’ll see that the payments are made. You 
deposit the receipts with me. We’ll manage to keep 
up the payments. When they’re all made, the bonds 
belong to the organization you boys and my boy 
belong to. They’re the nest egg for a fund to start 
Camp Mayhew up in the mountains. Camp Stephen 
Mayhew,” he added ; “ I’m not in this. But — ” and 
he emphasized that “ but ” with a crash of his fist 


90 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


on the desk — “ those payments won’t be paid if you 
boys whisper one word of what has been said here 
until I give you permission or — ” and he spoke still 
more slowly — “ or if you have made statements 
which you cannot prove. ,, 

Both boys were silent for a long moment. “ It 
was too good to be real! ” sighed Fat, mournfully. 

“ It’s worth working for,” stated Joe firmly. 
“ We’ll accept. Thank you for the chance.” 


CHAPTER V 


A BLOW IN THE DARK 

While the rivals of the Wolf Patrol had done 
their best to bolster their hopes with much confident 
conversation, they emerged from that final Liberty 
Loan rally no very dejected body of lads. Saying 
that they were going to outdo the Wolves was such 
an entirely different affair from really doing it, that 
none had been grievously disappointed when Joe’s 
quiet announcement had been made near the close of 
the meeting that his Patrol had exceeded their prom- 
ised quota, and broken the Scout record. Nor were 
the Wolves of the type who publicly gloated over 
triumph. 

But in private it was a different story. “ Fine 
and dandy!” declared Nick Reed. “ All of us 
knew Joe would do the trick, but none of us is going 
to play whale to that Jonah of a story. You two 


91 


92 THE BOY SCOUTS 

couldn’t get credit for a bag of peanuts. Who’d 
you hold up and rob? ” 

“ Such crude methods are not for us, my son,” 
returned Fat loftily. “ We produced the dough. 
Let that suffice.” 

“ Don’t wonder you’re ashamed to own up/’ Nick 
grumbled. “ Would be, in your place. Only let 
me state one thing, now and permanently, you young 
Rockabilts make good on those monthly installments, 
or we’ll make you look so sick no hospital’ll let you 
in. Get that?” 

“ Save your little worries until we flunk out,” ad- 
vised Fat. “Your Uncle Harvey and Mr. Joseph 
Lowell are great men.” 

“ Hope no one sticks a pin in you,” comforted 
the still curious Nick. “ You’d at least make a good 
explosion.” 

“ Couldn’t fizzle, even at that,” Fat acknowledged, 
modestly. “If you’re going to give us that vote of 
thanks, you’d better do it before I forget my speech. 
I’ve prepared it very carefully and it’s a splendid 
oration.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 93 


“ You’ll talk yourself to death without any help 
from me,” was Nick’s only comment, made with a 
grin. 

It was all the satisfaction any of the six got from 
Joe or Harvey on that or succeeding days. The 
boys had promised to keep tongue between teeth. 
That promise was sufficient, even without the addi- 
tional promise of Camp Stephen Mayhew. To win 
that for their friends, they would have become deaf 
and dumb, if necessary, and would not have uttered 
a single protest on their fingers. 

As the days passed they began to realize, more 
and more, how indefinite was the task set them. 
Like most New England towns, Gillfield was full of 
rumors. But, try as they would, the boys could find 
no international complications in the whisper that 
the Unitarian minister was going to be asked to 
promote himself to a larger field or that chicken- 
pox was rampant along the river bank. They 
wanted to prove to Mr. Mayhew that they were 
faithful to their trust, but they could not picture a 
dignified exit for themselves from his office if they 


94 THE BOY SCOUTS 

told him they suspected that the popular epidemic 
was German measles. 

The keen edge of their nervous desire to be faith- 
ful would have been painfully dulled had they 
dreamed that the old boss had forgotten their very 
existence. He did not have to hunt his troubles; 
they had become very real and equally prominent. 
Yet there were few in the plant, and none in the 
town, who had the slightest suspicion that anything 
was wrong. 

That first rejection of fuses was followed, within 
ten days, by a second. This time it was not the 
steel, but the measurements, which were at fault. 
Only a few thousandths too large, three days’ pro- 
duct was declared useless, and the government 
needed every fuse it could get. The old boss paced 
his office, the ordnance inspector’s rejection notice 
crumpled in his big fist, his rage gradually overcom- 
ing his sense of humiliation. At length he sum- 
moned Connelly, his own chief inspector. “ What 
you got to say for yourself? ” he snarled. 

As Jim Connelly read the offered report, his face 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 95 


slowly went white as his lips grew into a thin line. 
“If them parts had me mark, they do be right,” he 
stated. 

“ All go through your hands, don’t they ? ” 

“ Yes, sorr.” 

“ All get your mark, don’t they ? ” 

“If they do be right.” 

“ Don’t pass if they’re not, do they? ” 

“ No, sorr.” 

“ These did.” The old boss’s statement was one 
of flat fact. 

“ Some mistake, sorr.” 

“ Government doesn’t make mistakes like this.” 

Connelly’s square face whitened once more. 
“ Fhorty-three year, man an’ bhoy have I worked 
for ye, Mister Mayhew, sorr. Is ut now ye call me 
a slipshod workman? Have ye one o’ them fuses 
at hand ? ” 

“ Over there.” With a nod, he indicated his desk. 

Connelly strode across the room and picked up 
the returned sample from the rejected consignment. 
Carrying it to the window, he examined it with ex- 


90 THE BOY SCOUTS 

pert fingers and keen and careful eyes. “ Th’ marks 
be there,” he acknowledge. “ Th’ parts was right 
when they passed my hands.” 

“ They’re not right now.” 

“ Have ye proved ut so ? ” 

“ No. Told you I’d take the government’s 
word.” 

“ Oi take no man’s word when th’ name of th 7 
plant is touched. Lave me take this to me room an’ 
gauge ut.” 

“ Bring your tools here.” 

Connelly nodded and strode from the room, to re- 
turn in a moment with the tiny slugs and measures 
with which he worked. A moment more and he had 
the fuse apart and was gauging each piece with a 
delicacy unexpected from such great fingers. “ ’Tis 
right,” he proclaimed at last; “ ’tis right to th’ hair. 
Oi knew ut.” 

Once more each part passed the gauges, but this 
time long unaccustomed fingers held the measures. 
Mr. Mayhew’s own eyes told him that his man was 
right. “ Don’t understand it,” he confessed. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 97 

“ Can’t believe that there’s anything crooked higher 
up.” 

“ There is,” stated Connelly forcefully. “ ’Tis 
proved. 1 ’ 

“ Looks so,” he agreed thoughtfully. “ Looks 
so.” It was Mr. Mayhew’s turn to pace the room 
in silence. He knew the men who were in power at 
Washington. He could not make himself believe 
there was anything wrong down there. He would 
far rather have suspected himself of being crooked 
than his country’s chosen representatives. 

“ Jim,” he said at last, “ let’s give ’em the benefit 
of the doubt, till we’ve got the proof. Try these un- 
der the master gauges.” He went to the safe in the 
corner and, from an inner compartment, drew out a 
sealed and corded box. Ripping off the coverings, 
he drew the bits of perfect steel from their bed of 
cotton, then quietly handed the master set to the 
inspector. 

Again Connelly picked up a part of the fuse. At 
the first trial his face turned color. The gauge rat- 
tled in the hole it should have filled. A half-smoth- 


98 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


ered exclamation came through his dry lips as he 
grabbed for the second. It, too, rattled. Faster 
and faster he worked, Mr. Mayhew’s face close to 
his. He laid the last part down with tender care. 
“ There do be trickery here,” he said in a hoarse 
whisper. “ Me gauges have been tampered with.” 

Mr. Mayhew did not need words to confirm what 
his eyes had already told him. There was no doubt 
about it. Connelly’s set of gauges were at variance 
with the master set. “ Where do you keep yours ? ” 
he asked in a voice which shook. 

“ In me safe in me own room.” 

“ Who’s got the combination ? ” 

“ Me.” 

“ No one else? ” 

“ No, sorr.” 

“ Ever find anything disturbed in that safe? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Watchman been regular on his rounds? ” 

“ Dunno that. Best have Mr. Lowell in. He’ll 
know.” 

“ Don’t want any one in yet. Fewer who know 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 99 

this, the better. Some one in this plant’s in German 
pay.” He caught his breath in a deep, quick gulp. 
That anything connected with the Mayhews should 
prove traitorous was a blow that he could scarcely 
bear. He started toward his chair. Connelly saw 
him falter, waver and had an arm about him in an 
instant. “Aisy! Aisy! ’Tis bad, but ut will be 
worse for th’ dirthy Hun.” 

For possibly two long minutes Jim Connelly saw 
a sight that no man in Gillfield would have credited. 
The old boss sat on his throne, a crushed and broken 
man; then, as unexpectedly as he had collapsed, 
came back into his own, head up, jaw thrust out. 
“ Steve’s got the easier part,” he snapped ; “ he’s 
going to fight in the open, but, by the eternal, 
I’ll fight ’em in the dark and to the death! I was 
a man once, Jim! I’ve one more good fight in me 
yet.” 

“ Ye have,” agreed the inspector, the wild Irish 
fighting light sparkling in his own eyes, “ an’ ye’ve 
good men behind ye.” 

“ I have,” stated Mr. Mayhew. “ I have. There 


> > 


100 THE BOY SCOUTS 

can’t be more than one dirty Hun out there. Go 
back to your work and keep quiet until I give the 
word.” 

“ But me gauges, sorr? ” 

“ Umph ! ” Mr. Mayhew saw the situation, 
weighed the chances in a flash and made the decision 
in his old-time way. “ Take those,” he said, and 
pointed to the vital master set. “ We know they’re 
true. They’re all we have ; all that stand between us 
and a shut-down. They’re in your keeping, Jim. 
I trust a man.” 

Connelly, better than any one, appreciated the full 
weight of that trust. His voice shook a trifle as he 
reached for the precious bits of steel. “ Day rtor 
night do they lave me, sorr. An’ Heaven help tli’ 
man who so much as looks at ’em ! ” With that he 
turned on his heel and left the office. 

But Mr. Mayhew, roused or unroused, was riot 
one to leave matters to half measures. What he did 
Was done on the instant and, it must be acknowl- 
edged, he felt a genuine sense of relief as he hung 
up from the long distance call he had put iti. Above 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 101 

all things, he assured himself he could be big enough 
to suspect none of his employees until the guilty one 
was proved guilty. But, in spite of his confidence 
in himself, he found that he was checking off name 
after name as the pay roll list ran quickly through 
his mind. 

One name occurred and re-occurred, but he could 
not believe that a man whom he had treated almost 
as a son could play false. Yet of all in places of 
trust, Henry Stone was the only one of German 
birth. He appreciated that the time for sentiment 
was past, but, his faith once given, seemed almost 
too sacred to question. He recalled the visit made 
by the boys a few days before, but his own sources 
of knowledge were so far-reaching that he refused 
to put great credence in what he felt could only be a 
boy's personal dislike for a man of aggressive char- 
acter. While still pleased with having enlisted the 
aid of the two lads, it must be owned that he counted 
on little of value being produced from that direction. 
Stone, because of the sterling work he had done for 
the Mayhew company, because of the quiet but 


102 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


straightforward attitude he had assumed toward all 
Gillfield since the outbreak of the war, because, 
above all, of the injustice which might be done him 
on account of his chance of birth, must be the last 
at whom the finger of suspicion should be openly 
pointed. Time was essential in this thing; yet time 
would tell its own story. The old boss knew that 
he must play his cards warily. 

His mind was still following such lines of argu- 
ment when Stone himself came quietly into the office. 
“ Can you give me a few moments ? ” he asked. 
“ I’ve a rather personal matter to discuss.” 

“ What is it?” 

Stone, in his quiet, collected way, nodded his 
thanks and, closing the door behind him, walked to 
the side of the desk with a firm and confident step. 
“ During my ten years with you, Mr. Mayhew,” he 
began, “ our relations have been of the pleasantest 
and for me you have done much. The time has 
come for me to attempt to re-pay, and I can best re- 
pay by severing my connections with the company 
at once.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 103 

The old gentleman stiffened. “ What’s the mat- 
ter ? ” he demanded. 

The expression on Stone’s face did not change as 
he replied. “ A man does not choose his birth- 
place,” he said. “ I believe it to be much more than 
probable that mine is an embarrassment to you. 
While I am an American citizen, there are those in 
Gillfield who doubt the place of my allegiance. It 
is uncomfortable for us both, sir, to say the least. 
You are working on a government contract; I am of 
German extraction. I am certain that the thought 
has already occurred to you, in view of what has 
happened.” 

“ What’s happened ? ” 

“First, the finding of poor steel; secondly, this 
new matter of false gauges, sir.” 

“ Who told you about the gauges ? ” 

A trace of a smile passed across Stone’s dark face. 
“ One hears much when one’s interests are at heart,” 
he replied, ambiguously. 

“ Who told you ? ” reiterated Mr. Mayhew 
sternly. 


104 THE BOY SCOUTS 

There was no trace of a smile now and Stone’s 
whole body stiffened. “ If it was a thing not meant 
for me to know,” he retorted, “ Connelly was at least 
undiplomatic in his language as he took the master 
gauges into his room. I do not blame him,” he 
added ; “ I myself am equally indignant that such 
trickery could occur under our eyes. But it is 
largely because such things can and have occurred, 
sir, that it seems best to me to remove at least one 
cause of suspicion. That is the reason for my res- 
ignation. I assure you that I am thinking only of 
you. I do not know what I shall do; I have no 
plans.” 

“ Any one said I suspect you, or any one else ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Any reason to think I suspect you? ” 

“ I trust you know me by this time, sir.” 

“ Any one in the plant said anything to cause this 
move? ” 

“ I am not a boy, Mr. Mayhew. My honor is in 
my hands. I need no help in defending it. I am 
thinking solely and entirely of you.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 105 


The answer was so manly, the words rang so true, 
the man appeared so unselfish, that Mr. Mayhew 
moved with greater caution. “ Who’d you recom - 
mend for your place? ” he asked grimly. 

“ Young Cole might fill it.” 

“ Inexperienced.” 

“ Possibly,” admitted Stone. “ He’s the best, 
though.” 

“ Acknowledge you’d seriously embarrass me by 
quitting, don’t you ? ” 

“ I’d hardly go that far, sir.” 

“ Know it. Don’t argue.” He rose suddenly 
and placed a heavy hand on the man’s shoulder. 
“ Henry,” he announced, “ you’re morbid. You’ve 
let what you think a lot of empty-headed people are 
thinking, get on your nerves. You’re trying to do 
what you think’s a chivalrous thing but you’re so 
upset that you don’t see that, by doing it, you’d do 
the very thing some one might hope you’d do, that’s 
leave us in the lurch. There’s no one here fit to 
take your place. Can’t replace you. Go back to 
your work ; forget that you’re anything but a good 


106 THE BOY SCOUTS 

citizen. You’ve your part to play in the war. Play 
it.” 

Henry Stone looked his employer squarely in the 
eyes. “ I know I’ve my part to play,” he repeated. 
“ I’ll take your advice, sir ; I’ll play it to the end. 
I’ll promise you that. And, above all, Mr. Mayhew, 
I thank you for your trust in me. It means more 
than you can appreciate. I wanted you to know 
where I stood. That’s why I came to you at this 
time. I wanted to know where I stood. I know 
now. Thank you.” 

He wheeled and left the room, his head high, but 
the old man by the desk could not see the look in 
Henry Stone’s black eyes. 

Yet if Mr. Mayhew was determined to follow 
both inclination and advice and suspect none as the 
root of trouble in his plant until he was sure of his 
ground, he found his task more and more difficult. 
Nor did it add to his peace of mind to learn that the 
news of the substitution of the gauges was being 
whispered about Gillfield, in exaggerated form, 
within twenty-four hours. This in spite of sec- 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 107 


ondary instructions to both Connelly and Stone that 
the matter should be regarded as a government se- 
cret. 

It was to be expected that the boys, whose one 
idea now was to keep four ears as close to the ground 
as was possible, should hear these same stories. It 
was also to be expected that Harvey Foster should 
become highly excited while Joe counciled extreme 
caution about rushing into something he was con- 
fident that Mr. Mayhew knew far more about than 
any of the highly thrilled whisperers of sensational 
gossip. 

Harvey, nevertheless, refused absolutely and ut- 
terly to remain dormant under the excitement. In- 
sisting that Mr. Mayhew had asked, and expected, 
his personal aid, assistance and mental backing, he 
turned himself into a human ferret and started to 
round up all the various forms of current rumors. 
And, while engaged in this highly congenial work, 
the image of Henry Stone was never absent from 
his mind. Each tale he heard or overheard, he 
tried to trace its reason to a single source. Cer- 


108 THE BOY SCOUTS 

tainly none could accuse Fat Foster of being prod- 
igal with his own suspicions. 

Yet within thirty-six hours of his first plunge into 
what he told himself, in uttermost confidence, was 
secret service work, he stumbled into something 
which sent cold chills up and down his spine. Some 
one else was following the same trail. He was as 
positive of it as he was that he was alive, but he 
could get no glimmer of who it was, or what he was 
about. 

For the first time in his life he kept his ideas 
to himself. It was not because he did not long for 
Joe’s help, but because he had a very vivid belief 
that his friend would not wax enthusiastic over the 
fragments of decidedly circumstantial evidence he 
could produce. He needed help, he was in no doubt 
about that, but he was afraid to go to Mr. Nelson 
without something tangible and, the more he thought 
of visiting the old boss alone, the less that appealed 
to him. 

He spent the major part of an afternoon trying to 
account for some of the strangers in Gillfield but, 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 109 

when a small and thriving town is well served as to 
both train and trolley, this task is quite as much as a 
local police force cares to take in hand. The inn 
seemed his most promising field but, not being 
recorded as one of its paying patrons, neither Fat, 
nor his awkward questions, were received there with 
overdue cordiality. If he had only had a tin star on 
his flannel shirt, he felt things would have been 
more simple and more dignified. 

The one bright spot in the whole gloomy after- 
noon was his re-encounter with the jovial bond sales- 
man who, the day before, had admitted he was 
“ from down Boston way,” and who, with equal 
frankness, had asked the hotel clerk to get some one 
to show him to Mr. Nelson’s office. Harvey, seeing 
his opportunity to do his daily good deed as a Scout, 
had promptly volunteered his services and had found 
the good deed a treat. 

This afternoon Harvey saw this same chap getting 
of! from the Kendallville trolley in front of the inn. 
He promptly edged more prominently into the land- 
scape and was rewarded with a cheerful “ Hello, 


110 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


youngster ! Still looking for tourists for your see- 
ing Gillfield trips ? ” 

Fat grinned. “ Still ready to do anything I can 
for you,” he replied. “ Been to Kendallville ? 
Bum burg.” 

“ Any old place you can sell a bond, in these Lib- 
erty Loan days, is home, sweet home to me. If 
you’re as good a guide to the ball park as to the 
bank, I’ll treat us both to bleacher seats.” 

“ No game to-day. We’re not in any of the big 
leagues.” Fat admitted, not stated, this. 

“ I’ve got to be amused.” The handsome young 
fellow looked at the boy so dolefully, and his eyes 
twinkled so invitingly, that the boy’s heart warmed 
more than ever. “ I’ve got to be amused,” he re- 
peated, “ and as you’re the only chap I know here, 
you’re hereby elected president of the Gillfield En- 
tertainment Association, very limited. What are 
you going to do with me? ” 

“ Want to take a walk? ” 

“ I do not.” 

“ Neither do I,” agreed Harve promptly. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 111 


“ There’s a boat on the mill pond. We can row 
up the river ; it’s pretty.” 

“ Any fish there ? ” 

“ Pumpkin seeds.” 

“ Don’t eat fruit. Come on.” 

“ Better leave that thing in your room,” suggested 
Harvey, nodding at the flat, russet leather case the 
man carried. “ Boat leaks.” 

“ Why waste time ? I’ve got to go to that hotel 
soon enough. I’m generally called Jackson by my 
friends; what do yours call you? ” 

“ Fat. Real name’s Harvey Foster.” 

“ Good enough ! Come on and we’ll take on that 
trans- Atlantic voyage. No subs around here, I take 
it?” 

“ No submarines but some Huns,” replied Harve, 
falling into step. 

“How’s that?” queried Mr. Jackson, idly. 
“ Shouldn’t think a Hun’d find it healthy up in this 
part of the country.” 

Harvey turned purple. It was nice business for 
a detective to begin to babble of his work! “ Guess 


112 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


they won’t find it healthy, even in their own coun- 
try, when the U. S. gets through with ’em,” he said. 
“ I wish I was old enough to fight,” he added, with 
a sigh. 

“ That’s the spirit that’s going to bring us 
through, Foster.” 

“ How is it you’re not in uniform? ” blurted Fat. 
“ I beg your pardon, sir,” he added hastily; “ that’s 
none of my business.” 

Mr. Jackson was quick to feel the lad’s real em- 
barrassment and was sorry for him. “ Why, that’s 
all right, old man,” he admitted ; “ perfectly natural 
question these days. I’m married and have a kiddie, 
so that puts me outside the draft.” 

“Gee! You don’t look old enough. Bet you 
wish you were over there, though. My best friend’s 
just gone to camp — Steve Mayhew, the old boss’s 
son.” 

“ So I’ve heard. Good chap ? ” 

“ Best ever. Runs our Patrol.” 

“ Been running the Mayhew plant, too, hasn’t 
he?” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 113 

“ Been helping ; but don’t you get the idea that 
any one but the old boss runs that place. I know 
him; he’s all right. My father works there.” 

“ Does he, now ? Hear they’ve had some sort of 
trouble with a government contract.” 

Harvey looked at him out of the corners of his 
eyes. “ Have they ? ” he asked blandly. 

Mr. Jackson’s lips twitched, then a smile spread 
over his face and he laughed. “ You’ll do, Harve,” 
he announced. “ You sure know enough not to tell 
a stranger all you know.” 

Harvey again looked into the amused brown eyes. 
“ Maybe a kid thing to say,” he stated, “ but I 
wouldn’t be afraid to tell you what I knew, if I knew 
anything worth while.” 

“ Thanks, old dear. But let me give you a little 
tip. If you do ever know anything you do think 
worth while, don’t tell it to some stranger like me. 
Sometimes the most plausible people are the most 
dangerous, and the fellow who lets himself be 
pumped dry, isn’t much use to any one he wants to 
be of use to. How much further is it to the pond ? ” 


114 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


Harvey Foster, beginning to realize that he was 
about satiated with advice concerning his conversa- 
tional abilities, was decidedly pleased with this open 
invitation to change the subject. Before they had 
reached the pond, he had discovered his new friend 
had rowed on a college crew, and that took a real 
worry from his mind. He had had visions of row- 
ing that scow himself. He also found that Mr. 
Jackson knew all about the Scouts and was keen to 
learn about the activities of the Wolves. In fact, 
Harve was having one of the real times of his life. 

During the two hours they drifted about the pond, 
he continued to enjoy life to the full. Mr. Jackson 
was far more fun that Stephen Mayhew had ever 
been. There seemed to be nothing he could not 
talk interestingly about and mighty few places where 
he had not been. Fat, whose one ambition had been 
to be an engineer on the Gillfield Branch of the main 
line, almost made up his mind to take up selling 
bonds for a career. 

Once or twice Harvey was surprised to find out 
how much information his companion had picked 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 115 


up about Gillfield and its inhabitants during his 
twenty-four hour stay. Mr. Jackson laughingly as- 
sured him that a good salesman learned his field be- 
fore he began to work and that he had always been a 
great hand for remembering names and faces, which 
accounted for his knowing more or less about vari- 
ous Gillfield men whom he had been to call on be- 
fore going to look over Kendallville. And Harvey, 
all unbeknown to himself, added a good deal to this 
store of local knowledge, yet, not once, did Mr. Jack- 
son ask him a leading question or, apparently, twist 
the conversation into chosen channels. So it hap- 
pened that, when they at last returned to the town, 
both were thoroughly satisfied with the results of 
their trip. Yet never had the name uppermost in 
both their minds been mentioned. 

Harvey, in fact, was so enthusiastic about his new 
friend that, as soon as he had gulped his supper, he 
made a rush for the Lowell home to tell Joe all about 
it. “ He’s a king!” finished the enthusiast. 
“ Come on down town and maybe we’ll meet him 
^nd I’ll introduce you an’ everything.” 


116 THE BOY SCOUTS 

“ He doesn’t want to meet me,” vetoed Joe. 

“ Don’t suppose he does,” was the prompt re- 
joinder. “ But, you bet your life, you want to meet 
him. He’s a corker! Come on.” 

Joe let himself be persuaded because he really had 
no excuse for not going and, besides, it was always 
easier to let Fat have his way when he was in the 
clutches of one of his enthusiasms. But the trip was 
a sad disappointment to Harvey. He even ventured 
into the inn, hoping to find his new idol either in 
the office or writing room. 

Neither of the boys were of the type which idles 
about the streets, either by day or of an evening, 
and both were rather uncomfortable at having no 
definite errand. So, while Harve made a great 
show of hunting for his friend, that hunting was 
mostly ocular and the trail soon turned back to- 
ward the hill and home. 

It was not quite nine o’clock. Heavy clouds had 
swept over the valley at sunset and the night was 
dark, now that they were out of the zone of stores, 
where arc lights gave place to the incandescents 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 117 


which make feeble attempts to illuminate so many 
New England towns. The homes were set well 
back from the street and the newly-leafed trees cast 
heavy shadows. Had the lads not known every 
inch of ground, every tree and every shrub, almost 
every blade of grass, they might have felt the lone- 
someness and silence of the night. 

The street was one on which many of the older 
employees of the Mayhew plant lived — men who 
had spent all their lives in Gillfield and had built 
their homes according to plans given them by the 
old boss, who hated tenements and congested houses 
above all things. As the two strolled along, they 
were vaguely aware of a man walking alone an 
hundred or so yards ahead, but there was nothing 
about him or his surroundings to attract their atten- 
tion. 

All at once something happened there ahead which 
made them look, stop, clutch at each other for a 
frightened moment. The lone man had half turned. 
They had heard a half-choked roar as a second fig- 
ure had sprung out from the cover of a maple trunk, 


118 THE BOY SCOUTS 

then a sullen, dead thud. And the man who had 
been walking alone crumpled down in a heap on the 
sidewalk while the other bent over him. 

“ It’s — it’s a murder ! ” gasped Joe. 

Harvey, shaking like a leaf, opened his wide 
mouth and gulped for breath. 

“ Come on!” 

Fat was no coward, but his legs were dead from 
the knees down. He reached blindly for a tree and 
knew he was going to be very ill. “ Yell,” he fal- 
tered, “ yell for help, Joe ! He’ll get us, too. He 
— he—” 

He had just sense enough to realize that his at- 
tempt at yelling “ Help ! ” could not have been heard 
twenty feet away. Joe was dashing forward. It 
was enough for him to know that some one was in 
trouble. It was like him not to consider himself or 
give a thought to his very real danger. But Harvey 
saw it, and, pulling himself together with a great ef- 
fort, sent a high, shrill “ Help ! ” echoing through the 
street. 

The murderer heard, leaped to his feet, saw a boy 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 119 

flying toward him, hesitated a. fraction of a second, 
then stooped once more to grab something from the 
sidewalk. Joe saw that it was a short, heavy club- 
like device. 

“ Help ! Help ! ” screamed Harvey. “ Help ! 
Murder! ” 

Joe, at last seeing his danger, slowed up to weigh 
his chances. He knew that to rush in meant sure 
death, for he saw the man was powerful. A soft 
hat was pulled well down over his face and, while 
there was nothing about him the boy could recognize, 
there was something in his bearing that was 
strangely familiar. 

Then, as the two seemed to wait a fraction of a 
second for the other to make a move, a fourth fig- 
ure darted out from the shadows across the street. 
It all took but seconds; to the boys it seemed eter- 
nities. 

The murderer was the first to hear the sound of 
the new-comer’s rush. There was no hesitating 
now. It was no boy who had leaped out into the 
light. Joe saw his face, but he, too, was a stranger. 


120 THE BOY SCOUTS 

The man above the huddled heap on the sidewalk 
did not venture a second glance. “ Come on ! ” he 
called, and, like a flash, vaulted the low fence and 
disappeared between two houses, the other follow- 
ing after. 

Joe, too dazed by the undreamed of developments 
to reason, lunged ahead toward the man on the walk, 
his mind an utter blank. He had thought help was 
at hand, and that help had been a confederate. His 
one sharp, stabbing thought was that he could not re- 
call a single descriptive feature of the second man. 
He had watched only the first man. He had 
thought the second a friend. 

He slid to his knees beside the crumpled figure, 
and, at the first touch, his fingers came away warm 
and wet. The man lay as he had fallen — on his 
face — and the base of his skull was a pulpy, bloody 
wound. Slowly he rolled the body over. A faint, 
gurgling groan fluttered past the parted lips. By 
the glow of a distant lamp, Joe recognized the still, 
white face of Jim Connelly. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE OTHER STRANGER 

Joe Lowell, on the walk beside the man who 
had always been his friend, had only one thought. 
“ Mr. Connelly ! ” he gulped. “ Mr. Connelly ! 
Are you dead ? ” 

He tried to raise the limp figure so that he could 
rest the bleeding, sagging head on his knee. Vague 
memories of his first-aid training began to glimmer 
through the turmoil of his mind. He heard Foster’s 
strengthening cries for help, heard the boy pant as, at 
last, he came ahead, but it seemed as if the peaceful, 
silent houses near at hand would never come to life. 

Then, all at once, doors flew open and men began 
to appear. “ That way!” Joe shouted. “ They 
went that way — two of ’em! Quick!” 

“ It’s Jim Connelly,” muttered one man. “ He’s 
dead. Who did it?” 

“ They went ! That way.” The boy’s only idea 


122 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


was the capture of the murderers. “ Two of ’em.” 
He pointed between the houses on his left. 
“ Quick!” 

If the boy was bewildered, the man was thor- 
oughly rattled. “ Get a doctor,” he ordered. 
“ Call the police.” 

Another man rushed up, followed by a woman. 
“ What’s wrong? ” he demanded. 

“ It’s Mr. Pease,” breathed Harvey. “ Jim Con- 
nelly’s murdered.” 

“ Connelly ! ” Nelson’s father was on the ground 
in an instant, his hand fumbling with coat and shirt 
buttons. “ He isn’t dead,” he announced, a quick 
choke in his voice. “ I can feel his heart. Run and 
break the news to his wife, mother; we’ll carry him 
home.” 

Mrs. Pease had gone almost before he had fin- 
ished. These two, at least, could meet a situation 
calmly. Mr. Pease turned to Harvey. “ Co to my 
house and ’phone the police,” he ordered. “Joe, 
who did this? ” 

“ Don’t know. Two men. One struck him. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 123 

Other was hiding across the street. They ran that 
way when they saw us coming. Won’t some one 
chase ’em ? Oh, won’t some one come with me an’ 
chase ’em ! ” 

He struggled to his feet, but Mr. Pease, who was 
half-lifting Connelly, raised his own face. “ It’s 
not boy’s work,” he stated. “ Here, Judson, you 
and Wells go.” 

The two men glanced at each other. The idea of 
chasing a brace of murderers through the night did 
not appeal to them. “ The police will be here in a 
minute,” said Wells; “ I’ll help you carry Jim 
home.” 

“ I’m going,” declared Joe, ashamed of Gillfield 
for the first time in his life and, in his own bravery, 
entirely overlooking the desperate possibilities of the 
chase. “ Come on ! ” 

“ You stay here,” Mr. Pease ordered sharply. 

Down the street a front door slammed like a 
cannon shot. A moment later another figure came 
toward the group. Joe turned for help from this 
new source. For a moment he almost choked. 


124 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


There was something about this man which recalled 
so vividly all that had just occurred that he felt as if 
the past two minutes were only a bad dream. The 
carriage was the same, the breadth of the shoulders 
was the same, but, instead of the slouch hat pulled 
well down over the eyes, the man wore a derby and, 
instead of the gray coat, a comfortable smoking 
jacket. “Oh!” the boy gulped. “Oh! It’s Mr. 
Stone ! ” 

As cool and as collected as Joe had ever seen him, 
Mr. Stone joined the group. “ What has hap- 
pened? ” he inquired. 

Three men tried to tell him at once, but his mind 
seemed to work faster than their tongues. “ That 
can wait,” he announced impatiently. “ Connelly 
must be cared for first. F 11 help you, Pease.” 

He, too, stooped over the prostrate man and, a 
moment later, the two lifted him tenderly and began 
the slow journey toward Connelly’s home, a few 
doors beyond. “ What has been done toward cap- 
turing the assailant?” he asked, as they turned into 
the yard. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 125 


“ Boy’s telephoned for the police. There were 
two men.” 

“ Any one see what happened ? ” 

“ Joe Lowell.” 

“ Can he identify either man? ” 

“ Doubt it. Hope so.” 

“ So do I,” agreed Stone fervidly. “ Careful, 
here comes Mrs. Connelly.” 

It was heart-rending, the homecoming of the big 
Irishman, but the clouds lifted a trifle after the doc- 
tor had made his first hasty examination. Connelly 
had a fighting chance, but the fight would be hard. 
The one savage blow had been well aimed and ex- 
pertly delivered. Only Connelly’s quick turn had 
saved his life. 

While the physician was making his examination, 
Joe and Harvey were the chief figures in another. 
Gillfield’s police force made up in sharpness what 
it lacked in numbers and neither boy had cause for 
complaint because of lack of action now. Chief 
O’Connor had the meat of their story in a flash, his 
men were started both on the now-cooling trail and 


126 THE BOY SCOUTS 

for the railroad station, and trolley routes while the 
chief himself led the boys back to the scene of what 
he believed must prove murder, rather than assault 
with intent to kill. 

Both lads were old friends of his and he trusted 
them to the full. Appreciating that they were his 
one chance at a successful solution of the now grow- 
ing mystery, he told them first to show him where 
they had stood when they saw the attack. For a 
moment he studied the situation, then turned to 
Harvey. “ Go stand just where Jim fell, Harve,” 
he ordered. 

As Fat got out of hearing, he wheeled on Joe. 
“ Give me the real story,” he demanded. 

“ I have.” 

“ Not all of it. We can both recognize Harve 
from here; you were even nearer. You could see 
both men better. I know, from your face, you think 
you recognized at least one of them. Which was 
it and who ? ” 

“ I never saw the one who ran across the street 


before in my life.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 127 

“ All right. Who was the other ? ” 

Joe stiffened. “ I couldn’t see his face. His hat 
— a soft black one — was over his eyes and his coat 
collar was pulled up high. It was a long, gray coat. 
But — ” He hesitated, gulped, stopped. “ I’d have 
sworn it was Mr. Stone,” he stammered at last, 
flushing. 

“ Stone!” 

Joe nodded. 

“ But he was there, boy! He helped carry Jim 
home.” 

“ I know he did. I saw him come out of his own 
house. You asked me; I’ve told you what I saw 
and what I thought. I don’t understand it any more 
than you do.” 

For a moment the chief thought rapidly. He 
could not believe the boy had real grounds for his 
suspicions and he had no idea, as yet, as to the 
motive for the crime. “ It’s a clew, anyway,” he 
agreed. “ We’ll follow it. Come on.” 

Together they went rapidly down the street to 
the Stone home. Mrs. Stone herself answered the 


128 THE BOY SCOUTS 

imperative ring. “ What has happened ? ” she 
asked. 

“ Some one’s murdered Jim Connelly. Can I 
use your ’phone ? ” 

The little blonde woman’s blue eyes grew round. 
“ Have they caught the man?” she asked, her hand 
clutching nervously at her throat. 

“ No, ma’am. Joe, call up the station and tell 
Donovan I want him here on the jump.” 

The boy went into the room Mrs. Stone indicated 
and put in his call, although he had seen Bill Dono- 
van disappear on the trail of the criminals not ten 
minutes before. 

“ Bad business for Gillfield,” he heard O’Connor 
tell Mrs. Stone. “ Connelly’ll go out before morn- 
mg. 

“ Do you know who did it? ” 

“ Haven’t much doubt about it.” 

“ It’s terrible, terrible ! ” she exclaimed. “ And 
right before our house ! ” 

“ Bit further up the street,” corected the chief. 
“ Did you hear young Foster call for help? ” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 129 

“ That is what made Henry run out. We were 
in the sitting-room.” 

“ Oh ! Isn’t that the sitting-room, there on the 
other side of the house?” he asked indolently, 
glancing around. 

“ Yes. We had the window open. It’s a warm 
night. Mr. Stone had talked of taking off his 
smoking jacket. I’m so sorry for Mrs. Connelly! 
I was going over there, as you came.” 

The chief looked at her a moment quizzically. 
“ Know she’d like your help,” he said. “ If you 
don’t mind leaving us here, run along.” 

For the merest fraction of a second, he thought 
Mrs. Stone showed signs of hesitating, but, the next 
instant, her eyes met his unfalteringly. “ I think 
that I had better go,” she said. 

Hardly had she gone before O’Connor was in 
the little sitting-room. He had not liked Mrs. 
Stone’s answers, yet, if any one had asked him why 
his suspicions were aroused, he could not have an- 
swered. Certainly he had put small faith in Joe’s 
suspicions. He had known Stone too long to be 


130 THE BOY SCOUTS 

ready to connect him with anything so crude as a 
street murder. 

As he looked about the room he felt suddenly 
ashamed of even his vague suspicions. The window 
was wide open, just as the woman had said, and, by 
the center table were two comfortable chairs, knit- 
ting by the side of one, the evening paper dropped 
carelessly in the other. The whole story of the 
Stones’ evening lay there before his eyes. “ Darn 
a boy ! ” he muttered. “ I’ll be suspecting the old 
boss next.” 

He heard Joe in the hall and called him in. 
“ Here’s Henry Stone’s alibi written all over this 
room. You’ve made a mistake.” 

“ I’m glad of it,” was the prompt reply. “ I 
couldn’t believe my own eyes. I didn’t want to. 
Do you want me for anything else ? ” 

“ Don’t know.” Once more he glanced about the 
room. Nothing seemed in the least out of the 
usual. “ Stone may be the Hun they claim,” he 
muttered, “ but he’s sure no murderer. Come on.” 

“ Where?” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 131 

“ Got to try and discover the motive for this 
crime. Jim hadn’t an enemy in the town, s’ far ’s I 
know.” 

“ Don’t you think we ought to tell Mr. Mayhew 
about this ? ” the boy ventured. 

“ Why?” 

“ Jim worked for him, for one reason. If you 
don’t mind, I guess I’ll call him up,” he added 
quickly. 

“ Go as far as you like,” was the careless reply. 
“ Come to Connelly’s when you’re through. I’m 
going.” 

Ten minutes later the chief had his second sharp 
shock of the evening. As he was talking with the 
doctor in the Connellys’ hall, the old boss himself 
stalked through the open door. 

“ How’s Jim? ” was his first sharp demand. 

“‘He may pull through. He’s still unconscious, 
Mr. Mayhew.” The doctor, like all the rest of Gill- 
field, showed proper deference to the head of the 
community. 

“ Good ! Make it your business he does. I’m 


132 THE BOY SCOUTS 

responsible.” He turned on the chief. “ Was he 
robbed ? ” he demanded. 

“ Don’t think scs sir.” 

“ Don’t you know? ” snapped the old man. 

“ Who’d rob Jim Connelly? ” retorted O’Connor, 
flushing uncomfortably. 

“ I’m not telling you what it is your business to 
find out. Answer me.” 

“ I don’t know, Mr. Mayhew. I never thought 
of robbery as a motive.” 

“ Never did have any sense, or you wouldn’t be a 
policeman,” comforted the irate old gentleman. 
“ Fortunate thing a boy had gumption enough to 
send for me. Who brought Connelly here?'” 

“ Pease and Stone.” 

“’Who else touched him? Whcr put him «to 
bed?” 

“ They did, I guess.” 

“ Stop guessing ; find out. Bring every one who 
touched Jim, or his clothes, here.” 

The chief was glad of an excuse to get out. Rob- 
bery as a motive for the assault was an entirely new 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 133 


thought. Connelly was a man who had very little. 
The chief, knowing that pay day at the plant was 
nearly a week past, knew Jim too well to imagine 
that he had any cash in his clothes. He was almost 
on the verge of treating himself to a smile at the old 
boss’s expense, when his memory came to his salva- 
tion. He darted up the stairs, his heart thumping. 

Within the minute he was back in the Connellys’ 
little parlor with Pease and Stone. “ These two are 
the only ones who’ve been with Jim,” he announced. 
“ They got his clothes off.” 

Mr. Mayhew’s set face relaxed a trifle but, before 
he could speak, Stone stepped forward. “ Here’s 
what you are looking for, Mr. Mayhew,” he an- 
nounced, offering a close-wrapped package. “ It 
may have cost Connelly his life, for he protected 
your gauges instead of his head.” 

The old jaw sagged a moment, then the gnarled 
hand went out, seized the packet and dropped it in 
the pocket of the light overcoat. “ How do you 
know these are gauges? ” he asked slowly. 

“ Because I saw him do up the package and put 


134 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


it in his pocket just before he left the mill this after- 
noon. His right hand clutched the package so 
tightly we had difficulty in getting it free just now.” 

“ You took ’em as my representative, I suppose? ” 

“ Naturally, sir. I was going to your house with 
them at once. None appreciates their value better 
than I.” 

“ Some one evidently did — from what he tried 
to do to Jim,” stated Mr. Mayhew. “ O’Connor,” 
he went on, “ here’s the motive for the crime. 
Some one knew Connelly had this package and risked 
murder to get it.” 

“Who knew besides you, Stone?” The chief 
was plainly dazed. If he had not seen the Stone 
home with his own eyes, if Mrs. Stone’s story had 
not dovetailed so perfectly with all the evidence he 
had found, he would have thought he had his man. 
Yet, if Stone had risked so much to get possession 
of the gauges, he would not have offered them to 
Mr. Mayhew of his own accord and before any de- 
mand had been made. Common sense told him 
that the man was not to be suspected; yet, as he 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 135 

watched him, cool and calm as ever, he would have 
given a year’s pay then and there to have been able 
to snap his handcuffs around the thick, white wrists. 
“ Who knew besides you? ” he repeated. 

“ If I knew that, I’d do the work you’re paid to 
do,” he answered insolently. “ It’s quite apparent 
some one should do it.” 

“ Is it ? ” snapped the chief. “ How comes it 
you’re so cocksure the package is what they were 
after?” 

“ Mr. Mayhew is here, and any questions you may 
see fit to ask about his affairs, he may see fit to 
answer. Why you should suspect me — ” 

“ Who said anything about suspecting you?” 
The chief’s eyes narrowed and did not leave Stone’s 
face for a second. 

“ I did,” Stone stated poolly. “ Your whole man- 
ner implies it and I will not tolerate it. Were it 
not for a matter which has nothing to do with this 
case, you would not have had the temerity to speak 
to me as you have. The fact that I was once a 
German national appears sufficient for every one in 


136 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


this town to lay every questionable occurrence at 
my door. I’m heartily and thoroughly disgusted 
with such narrow-mindedness. Were it not for my 
wife, I would laugh at your rustic simplicity. But 
she is, unfortunately for her, supersensitive. For 
that reason alone, I demand that you go to our home, 
examine it and ascertain whether or not the evidence 
you find there does not prove neither of us left the 
house until after the attack on Connelly occurred.” 

“ Thanks,” retorted the chief with a short laugh; 
“ I’ve already availed myself of that privilege.” He 
thought Stone would resent the announcement. 
Again he was surprised. The man merely shrugged 
his shoulders, but, the next instant, he stepped close 
to the officer. “ Then apologize,” he ordered. 

“ I don’t have to,” retorted the chief with equal 
force. “ I’ve certain rights and I keep within them. 
And so far as suspecting you goes, I’ve also a right 
to suspect you or ^ny one else. Making formal 
charges is another matter. I’ve made none. After 
I have, I’ll make any apologies necessary and I’ll 
make ’em to whom I see fit.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 137 

" Enough!” commanded Mr. Mayhew. “Time 
to talk when something’s been done.” 

The chief bit his lip. He knew that his job de- 
pended upon the old boss’s pleasure, but his former 
uncertainty about Stone was stealing over him again. 
The man’s whole attitude was so pugnacious that 
his keen sense of suspicion was aroused, yet, in spite 
of his' desire, he could not find a plausible excuse to 
go against Mr. Mayhew’s orders and force the mat- 
ter further. If he could have, he was a man who 
would have risked his official neck on the instant, 
for he believed that he saw more possibilities in the 
growing mystery than Mr. Mayhew was yet aware 
of. And it was then that he made his second grave 
error. 

He turned abruptly to the old gentleman, his face 
now set in its official and expressionless mask. “If 
you’re satisfied that the gauges were the cause of this 
attack on Connelly,” he said, “don’t you think 
you’re taking an unnecessary risk in keeping them 
in your possession over night? ” 

“ Haven’t said I was going to. You take it for 


138 THE BOY SCOUTS 

granted they’re safe and get after the man who 
assaulted Connelly.” 

The chief’s ears grew red. He felt this to be a 
direct reprimand. “ I don’t believe you would find 
fault with what has been done already, sir,” he said. 

“ What has? ” If there was curiosity in Stone’s 
query it was well concealed in the openness of the 
sneer. 

O’Connor looked him over fro;n head to foot, the 
pupils of his eyes narrowing to pin points. “ What 
you’ve learned didn’t seem to please you ; why wound 
your feeling further? I — ” He stopped abruptly. 
The sound of heavy feet on the front porch made 
him leap to the door. The two in the room heard a 
low-voiced conversation, then the chief reappeared. 
“ Got to get down town,” he announced. 

“ What is it? ’ 

“ Can’t say, yet, Mr. Mayhew. If you’re going 
home, I’ll either call you up or come up.” 

“ Be up until eleven.” 

“ All right, sir.” He turned and ran out. But, 
as he crossed the veranda, he noticed two huddled 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 139 

shapes on the railing. u You boys come with me,” 
he commanded. 

Both Joe and Harvey wanted to ask a thousand 
questions, but the nervous reaction from their ex- 
perience left them strangely tongue-tied and they 
feb in behind the two officers in silence. As they 
passed over the spot where Connelly had been felled, 
Fat shuddered. “ Suppose he’ll live? ” he asked. 

“ Hope so.” 

“ So do I. Good chap, Jim Connelly.” 

“ Best ever ! ” 

“ Has the chief pinched Stone? ” 

“ Guess not.” 

“ Think he’s going to ? ” 

“ Doesn’t look like it.” 

“ Bet he did it,” declared Harvey. “ Bet, if he 
didn’t, he was mixed up in it some way.” 

“ Doesn’t look so now. Chief thinks I was mis- 
taken, I guess.” 

Whatcher think ? ” 

“ Dunno,” acknowledged Joe slowly. “ Maybe I 
was mistaken.” 


140 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Don’t you believe it ! ” insisted Fat. “ That 
man’s a crook and a murderer and a Hun, and I 
know it.” 

“ You can’t prove it.” 

“ I don’t have to prove it to myself. It’s the 
second man who gets me.” 

“ I saw him,” returned Joe. “ The more I think 
of it, the more I realize I got a good look at him. 
I’d recognize him anywhere now.” 

Apparently the chief’s ears were wide open, for 
he half-turned. “ Don’t talk about that,” he or- 
dered. “ You’ll get confused, Joe, and I want an 
absolutely clear statement from you in a minute.” 

“ All right.” 

They walked on in silence. Neither quite appre- 
ciated his importance, both as witness and source of 
information, and it was hard to keep still. But 
neither could think of a single other subject to talk 
about. 

They came into the main street at last and turned 
down in the direction of the police station. The 
knots of men on the corners, the questions shot at 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 141 


the chief — and left unanswered, in true police 
fashion — proved the news had already spread and 
that Gillfield was tingling with excitement. The 
lads themselves found it hard to keep their tongues 
quiet. 

The walk seemed interminable. Each, for some 
strange reason, felt a queer sensation of guilt as he 
followed the two silent policemen through the town. 
Something made them keep their eyes on the side- 
walk most of the time. 

But, as they approached the inn, something made 
Joe look up. He stopped short. His eyes grew 
round. His mouth opened. His right hand 
clutched Harvey's arm. “Fat!” he whispered. 
“ There ! Look ! It’s — it’s — ” 

“ What’s the matter with you? ” 

“ There on the steps ! It’s the other man ; the 
other murderer. I’d know him anywhere.” 

Harvey wheeled around. For a second he, too, 
was silent. Then he laughed, frankly and openly 
laughed. “Shucks!” he said, “you’re crazy! 
That’s my friend Mr. Jackson.” 


CHAPTER VII 


STONE PLAYS A PART 

The argument was short and sharp. Harvey 
would not be convinced. This time Joe flatly re- 
fused to concede that his eyes had deceived him. 
He was as positive that the stranger, Jackson, was 
the man who had rushed across the street, and the 
man to whom Connelly’s assailant had called to 
“ come on,” as he was that Jim was the man he had 
found stretched on the walk. In spite of Fat’s 
protests, in spite of detaining hands, he wrenched 
himself free and tore after the chief. 

“ Quick ! ” he begged. “ Quick ! Come back ! 
I’ve found one of ’em.” 

“ Where? Who?” The chief was with him in 
a flash. 

“ Back there; Jackson.” 

“ Come!” 

They started together but, before they had gone 
142 


THE BOY SCOUTS 143 

twenty steps, ran into Harvey Foster, strolling care- 
lessly at the side of Mr. Jackson. 

“ There he is! ” stated Joe. “ I’d recognize him 
a thousand years from now.” 

The chief stepped up to the young man and laid 
a heavy hand on his shoulder. “ I want you,” he 
said gruffly. 

To Joe’s astonishment, Mr. Jackson did not even 
start. Instead of showing any confusion, he smiled 
a friendly sort of smile. “ If you’re Chief O’Con- 
nor,” he retorted, “ our desire’s mutual. I’ve been 
waiting for you.” 

“ You’ve found me.” The chief was not one to 
be bluffed by any show of composure and, this time, 
he had absolute confidence in Joe’s identification. 
His keen eyes had already noted the dirty shoes on 
Jackson’s feet and he knew that Gillfield’s walks 
could not produce such decorations. “ We’ll talk 
inside.” 

“ I was about to suggest the same thing,” re- 
torted Mr. Jackson, with that same friendly smile. 
“ Only let’s get into the station.” He saw Joe 


144 THE BOY SCOUTS 

watching him with wide, round eyes. “ It’s all 
right,” he said with a chuckle ; “ you’re not seeing 
things, youngster. We’ve met before this evening, 
but ours was what might be termed a passing ac- 
quaintance.” 

The chief admired gameness. “ Wouldn’t say 
anything I’d be sorry for later,” he advised. “ Any- 
thing you say will be used against you.” 

“Thanks for the tip. You’re all right! But, 
honestly, I was afraid Harvey’s friend’s eyes would 
pop out of his head unless I made some sort of con- 
fession. I was a boy myself a mighty short time 
ago.” 

“ You’ll hang yourself in about ten seconds more,” 
growled the chief. He led the way into the police 
station and threw open the door of his own office. 
“ Guess you’d better come in, too, Joe,” he said. 
“ I want your story at the same time.” 

Jackson’s smile slowly faded as he shook his 
head. “ I’ll talk, Chief,” he agreed, “ but I want to 
talk to you alone.” 

“ I don’t mind.” Joe tried to make his voice 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 145 


sound as if he had neither interest nor curiosity. 

“ Guess I’ll run this,” observed O’Connor 
abruptly. “ In there, all of you. You, too, Dono- 
van.” This last to the square-faced policeman who 
had accompanied them from the Connellys’. 

“ I don’t want to appear officious,” began Jack- 
son, “ but — ” 

“ Then get in there,” ordered O’Connor. “ I’ve 
no time to waste.” 

“ Neither have I.” This time Jackson’s voice was 
sharp. His hand made a move toward the breast 
pocket in his waistcoat. 

“None o’ that!” snapped Donovan, springing 
forward. “ Kape yer hands up, me bucko ! ” 

Again Mr. Jackson’s laugh rang boyishly. 
“This is beautiful, classic!” he gasped. “Chief, 
you search me. You’ll find a concealed weapon in 
my card case. But you examine it.” 

The chief looked at him closely. “ What’s up? ” 
he demanded. 

“ Find out.” 

“ I will.” O’Connor stepped in front of him, 


146 THE BOY SCOUTS 

ran his expert hand inside the waistcoat and drew 
out a flat card case. 

“ Left-hand side,” suggested Mr. Jackson. 

The chief opened it, looked and the color began 
to surge into his big, honest face. “ Why didn’t 
you say so ? ” he demanded. 

“ Wanted to. You wouldn’t give me the oppor- 
tunity. I’ve tried to find you twice to-day. You 
were out. Is it all right ? Am I still under 
arrest? ” 

A sort of sickly smile found its way across the 
chief’s face. “ You are, until you get in there and 
light one of my cigars, Ca — ” 

“ Name’s Jackson,” he broke in, “ Mr. James 
Jackson, bond salesman from down Boston way.” 

“You boys wait with Donovan,” ordered the 
chief. “ I’ll want you before long. After you, Mr. 
Jackson,” and he waved him into his office and 
closed the door. 

“ Well,” gulped Joe. “ What — what — ” 

“ I told you he was all right,” triumphed Har- 
vey. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 147 


“ Who is he ? ” Both boys made the united de- 
mand on the grinning Donovan. 

“ Dunno,” confessed that worthy. “ Whoever he 
be, Chief found that concealed weapon loaded. 
He’s some man higher up, that’s sure. Come till 
Oi get me me poipe.” 

“ But what,” asked Joe, as he followed, “ was he 
doing up there by Connelly’s ? That’s what I want 
to know.” 

“ Maybe ye’ll find that out, me bhoy,” comforted 
Donovan ; “ thin agin maybe ye won’t. These birds 
don’t be after tellin’ all they know, not by a dum 
sight.” 

For nearly half an hour the boys sat behind the 
desk with the equally curious Donovan. Reports 
came in from time to time to show that the net 
thrown out by the chief was in working order, but 
none filling Joe’s description of Connelly’s assailant 
had, as yet, been enmeshed. It was when all of the 
waiting three had almost given up hope of ever be- 
coming any wiser as to what wheels were revolving 
within mysterious wheels, that the chief stalked 


148 THE BOY SCOUTS 

into the room. “ Both you boys come with me,” 
he commanded. 

They were after him like rabbit hounds and were 
led to where a more sober Mr. Jackson sat beside 
the chief’s desk. “ This,” began O’Connor, “ is the 
lad who ran in on the murderer, Mr. Jackson,” he 
said, putting a hand on Joe’s shoulder. 

“ You had plenty of nerve, youngster,” said the 
man, getting up and grasping Joe’s hand cordially. 
“ Plenty of it,” he repeated. “You took a big 
chance. It’s a wonder you didn’t get a crack on 
the head, too.” 

The boy flushed. “ He ran when he heard you 
coming, sir,” he explained. “ I wasn’t near enough 
to have him hit me.” 

“ You would have been in a second more. You 
did a mighty brave thing.” 

“You bet he did!” agreed Harvey promptly. 
“ All I could do was stand still and gulp. I’ve 
dreamed of trying to yell for help. Now I know 
dreams come true. Gee, but I was scared ! When 
are you going to arrest Stone? ” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 149 

“ What makes you think it was Stone?” Mr. 
Jackson asked quietly. 

The enthusiasm of Harvey Foster ebbed as 
quickly as it had risen. It flashed over him that, 
no matter how many lessons he had, he probably 
would never learn to keep his thoughts to himself. 
“ Dunno,” he answered glumly. “ No reason, I 
guess.” 

“ Do you think it was ? ” This time he turned to 
Joe. 

“ I don’t know what to think,” was the slow 
answer. 

Mr. Jackson turned to the chief. “ Can’t you 
tell them it’s all right to talk ? ” he suggested. 

“Sure! Open up, boys. Tell him everything 
you know. He’s higher up than me.” 

“ But we don’t know anything,” retorted Joe, 
desperately. “ I’ve told you all I know. I didn’t 
see the man’s face.” 

“ Are you positive? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

The man thought for a moment, then proceeded 


150 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


on a different course. “ Ever hear of any trouble 
between Stone and Connelly ? ” 

“ No, sir. Every one in town likes Jim.” 

“ How about Stone ? ” 

“ I don’t believe he’s very popular,” admitted Joe. 
“ You see, a lot of folks, who rather liked him 
before the war, have sorter dropped him because 
he’s German.” 

“ You mean pro-German? ” 

“ I didn’t say that. I don’t know.” 

“ Do you suspect he is — you or any one else 
here? ” 

“ I don’t know much about what other people 
think,” was the careful reply. “ I simply don’t like 
him.” 

“ That wouldn’t make you suspect him now, 
would it?” asked Mr. Jackson quietly. 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Know any reason why he should attack Con- 
nelly ? ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ What do you know about Mrs. Stone ? ” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 151 

“ Not much. She’s only been here five or six 
years.” 

“ Came from Germany to marry him ? ” 

“ They were married, I think, the last time he 
went home.” 

“ Gillfield women like her? ” 

“ I don’t believe they do or don’t,” confessed the 
boy, at a loss to understand why Mrs. Stone should 
be brought into the affair. “ She never goes much 
of anywhere.” 

“ What do you know about her, Chief? ” 

“ Never gave her a thought, one way or the 
other. She’s quiet, just as the boy says.” 

“ Good thing to check up all Germans in your 
territory, Chief.” 

“ Stone was an American citizen when he married 
her,” defended O’Connor. “ She’s as much of an 
American citizen as he is.” 

Mr. Jackson’s lips closed into a narrow line. It 
was more than evident that he did not care either 
for the reply or the tone in which it was made. It 
was far from his wish to antagonize O’Connor, 


152 THE BOY SCOUTS 

however. He turned to ask Harvey something but, 
before he could speak, the telephone on the chief’s 
desk buzzed. O’Connor reached for it and, for a 
moment, the three others listened to the conver- 
sation. 

Then the chief hung up with a snap. “ There 
goes our last clew,” he announced grimly. “ It was 
Stone talking. Mrs. Stone was running home 
through the back yard to get something for Mrs. 
Connelly. She found a slouch hat and a long, gray 
coat in the yard next her house. The man threw 
away his stuff when you were after him. Chucked 
it, doubled on you and made his get-away.” 

Jackson was on his feet, however, reaching for 
his hat. “If you’ve a machine here,” he ordered, 
“ get it out. I want to see where that chap shed his 
skin. I’m getting mighty interested in — a whole 
lot of things.” 

“ Want me to come,” suggested Fat eagerly. 

“ Guess not. Won’t be anything exciting about 
it.” 

“ We know those back yards,” pleaded the lad. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 153 


Jackson, who was as much a boy at heart as 
Harvey or Joe, could not resist that look. “ All 
right,” he agreed; “ come on.” 

“ Thanks, sir,” chorused the boys. 

Waiting only while O’Connor gave the brief in- 
structions he had returned to- the station to put in 
force, the four went back to the scene of the assault. 
It was Stone who stepped to the side of the car as 
it drew up to the curb. “ I presumed you would 
wish to know about this at once, Mr. O’Connor,” he 
said, in his usual precise English, his manner, how- 
ever, a bit stiffer than usual, for it was evident that 
his recent experience with the chief still rankled 
savagely. 

“ Do. Where’d you find ’em ? ” 

“ It was Mrs. Stone who discovered the gar- 
ments,” he corrected. “ We will gladly show you 
the spot. As good citizens, we naturally wish this 
sorry commentary on Gillfield’s protection cleared 
immediately.” 

Harvey, in spite of his hatred of Stone, chuckled 
at this open stab. But the chief himself took it 


154 THE BOY SCOUTS 

with outward calm. “ Very kind in you,” he said. 
“ Lead the way.” 

Stone glanced questioningly at Mr. Jackson, as if 
expecting an introduction but, as none was immedi- 
ately forthcoming, thought better of his unspoken 
request and, nodding to his wife, walked into the 
shadows at her side. Jackson said nothing, but 
his keen eyes were very busy, glancing here and 
there. 

The two lads, tingling with expectation as they 
brought up the rear, soon discovered that Jackson 
had spoken truly when he promised them there would 
be little excitement about the trip. Mrs. Stone was 
unflustered as she indicated the spot, just out of 
the deep shadow of a high fence, and said the hat 
and coat had lain there. 

The chief grunted. “ Must have been in some 
hurry or he’d have thrown ’em three feet further. 
Couldn’t have seen ’em till daylight, then.” 

If it was Jackson to whom he spoke, he was dis- 
appointed at receiving no reply. That man had left 
the group and, walking to the fence, had vaulted 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 155 


over and gone half way across the next yard. Joe, 
curious, followed. 

He found him pacing slowly over the grass, look- 
ing carefully to the right and left. Ahead was a 
clump of lilacs. Jackson, studying this, nodded. 
“ He must have doubled there,” he said, half to 
himself. “ Probably hid there till I got by. Then 
he sneaked off safely while I went on across the 
garden. Thought he’d jumped that lower fence.” 

He paused and studied the whole situation 
thoughtfully. “ Whose house is that?” he de- 
manded; “ the second one, down there? ” 

“ The Stones’.” 

“ Urn!” 

“ I went in there,” volunteered the boy. 

“ Know you did. Stand here a second.” He 
disappeared into the' lilacs to emerge a moment 
later. “ All right,” he said; “ let’s go over to the 
rest of the crowd.” 

“ What do you make of it, sir?” Joe couldn’t 
help asking the question. His curiosity was too 
keen to protect his manners. 


156 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Dunno yet.” 

They found Stone talking with the chief who, 
noticing Jackson, waved to him to come up. 
“ Looks like a clean get-away. Too much grass to 
find foot-prints.” 

Jackson nodded. “ Whoever it was, went 
through three yards,” he stated. “ Did you happen 
to hear any one running, Mr. Stone ? ” 

Stone looked at the stranger for a moment. “ As 
I recall the period just before being fully aroused 
by the cries, I do recall hearing some one running 
across our yard and into the next. If I gave it a 
thought, it was only to think it was some lads at 
play.” 

“ Um ! Strange you should hear footfalls on the 
grass when you were in the house. It must have 
been a heavy man.” 

“ Not necessarily. Our window on that side of 
the house was open.” 

“ It certainly was,” agreed the chief. “ Which 
way did the man go, Mrs.' Stone? ” 

“ I didn’t hear him, sir.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 157 


“ That’s a pity,” confessed Mr. Jackson. 

The chief was plainly confused. This new de- 
velopment upset his theories. All that he now had 
left to work on was a very vague description of a 
man and actual possession of a surprisingly old hat 
and coat. The exits from the town were as care- 
fully guarded as it was possible for him to have 
them, but the man wanted might easily slip away, 
now that it was all-too-evident that he was clothed 
differently from what the watchers expected. 
Ahead, the chief saw only a long search through 
clothing stores as a possible way to identify the 
purchaser of the hat and coat. He took a flashlight 
from his pocket and tried to find footprints on the 
grass — but without success. 

Joe, who for some reason he could not explain, 
found himself watching Mr. Stone. Yet Stone was 
as disinterested in the chief’s search as was Jackson. 
A half -contemptuous smile began to wrinkle the 
corners of his mouth and, at length, he started 
toward the moving light. 

“ O’Connor,” he said sharply, “ I certainly am 


158 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


under no obligations to assist you in any way, but 
I have interest enough in Gillfield, and especially in 
Connelly, to leave no stone unturned which might 
lead to the apprehension of your man. Do you care 
for any suggestions from me?” 

The chief was bewildered enough now to grasp 
at any straw. “ I certainly do, Stone. You’ve 
knocked all my theories into a cocked hat.” 

“ What I have to say may not seem worth while. 
I’m — ” He hesitated a fraction of a second. “ In 
Germany,” he want on coldly, “ the higher police 
officials, when baffled temporarily by a crime, as you 
are baffled now, immediately reenact that crime 
under their close observation. As a general thing, 
it brings some new and neglected clew to light which 
leads to a quick solution.” 

“ How do you mean ? ” 

“ You’ve the hat and coat of the criminal, the two 
witnesses in these boys; we’re within fifty yards 
of the scene. Reenact it. You may learn some- 
thing.” 

Jackson, who had strolled up behind Stone, 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 159 

nodded. “ All right,” agreed the chief. “ We can 
try it. Who will act the murderer ? ” 

Stone gave an ugly laugh. “ As long as you were 
generous enough to suspect me of being Connelly’s 
assailant,” he said, “ I claim that honor.” 

Joe Lowell gulped. But, before he gasped a 
second time, Jackson’s firm hand closed his mouth. 
“ Come on, Joe,” he said; “ I’ll stay with you.” 

“ But — but — ” 

“ Don’t worry,” said Jackson as he led him 
toward the street; “you won’t see much to frighten 
you. But, if this is nerve and sheer bluff, I take my 
hat off to the chap.” 

“Who’s to be Connelly?” they heard the chief 
ask of Stone as they came after. “ I want to stay 
with young Lowell.” 

“ Let the other boy play the part,” suggested 
Stone. 

“ Me ! ” exclaimed Harvey in a shrill voice. 
“Me! And have you jump on my back and 
wallop me with a slug shot? Not in ten thousand 
years ! ” 


160 THE BOY SCOUTS 

“ A German boy would have more courage,” 
sneered Stone. 

“ You know ’em,” flared Harvey; “ glad to say I 
don’t. Come on. But if you touch me, I’ll kick 
the spots out of you.” 

It was Stone, not the chief, who made the quick 
arrangements and, as he walked up the street with 
Fat, he left a silent group behind him. Mrs. Stone 
had already disappeared, saying she must return to 
the Connellys’. Jackson seemed decidedly inter- 
ested, Joe was too bewildered to talk, and the chief 
far too absorbed in what was about to happen to 
start any conversation. 

They saw Harvey stop a few yards before reach- 
ing the tree beside which Connelly was felled, saw 
Stone disappear behind it, heard him cry “ Ready? ” 
then saw the boy start stiffly and resolutely for- 
ward. 

The next instant Stone’s figure appeared out of 
the darkness, stood for a second, with upraised hand, 
behind the boy, then struck a blow which would have 
killed him had it been made with anything but an 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 161 

open palm into empty air. “ Do I fall down ? ” 
they heard Harve ask. 

“ Not necessary.” 

“ How about it ? ” demanded the chief. “ Does 
Stone look like your man, Joe ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Knew he wouldn’t,” growled Jackson. “ This 
is all blamed nonsense, Chief. Let’s- get out.” 

“ Wanted to prove something.” 

“ Have you ? ” 

“ Guess Mr. Stone has to Joe.” 

“ He’s certainly taller than the man who struck 
Jim,” confessed the boy, “ taller and not so broad. 
I don’t understand. But I still think — I’ve made a 
mess of things generally,” he finished disconsolately. 
“ About the pursuit? ” called Stone. 

“ He wouldn’t know the man’s trail,” said Jack- 
son. “ Hell just ball you up worse.” 

“ But that’s the important part,” argued 
O’Connor. 

“ I realize that,” grunted the other. “ I’m not 
quite a fool. Let’s go.” 


162 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Where do you want to go ? ” 

“ Away from here/’ retorted Mr. Jackson, in open 
revolt. “ He’ll stage a circus here next and you’ll 
be the clown. I want to see Mr. Mayhew.” 




IN UNIFORM 

Neither Joe nor Harvey was asked to accom- 
pany the disgusted Jackson and the thoroughly angr;y 
chief to the Mayhew home, nor, later, were they 
given any hint as to what passed between the three 
men. They were well aware that the Connelly as- 
sault had created a sensation in Gillfield for, during 
the following days, both were the targets for hun- 
dreds of questions they either would not, or could 
not, answer. 

It was, of course, common knowledge that the 
man who had made the cowardly attack on Jim was 
still at large. Public indignation ran high against 
the inefficiency of the police, and only the old boss’s 
backing prevented an outburst of popular 
opinion against O’Connor. If any one knew what 
steps were being taken to apprehend the criminal, 
he failed to take the curious into his confidence. 



i 

CHAPTER VIII 


163 


164 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


That Mr. Mayhew himself knew, none doubted. So 
rumor ran riot, but riot produced no information. 

Both boys had been sworn to utter secrecy con- 
cerning their suspicions of Stone, so that the twenty- 
four hours which dragged along before Jim recov- 
ered consciousness were filled with expectation. But 
Jim, when he could talk, owned that he had not 
seen the man, that he did not even know what had 
hit him — so far as he was concerned it was all a 
blank. 

As for Jackson, Harvey ventured into the inn, 
on his way to school on the morning after the crime, 
in the hope of seeing that mysterious actor in the 
drama. He was dumbfounded when told that Jack- 
son had left Gillfield on the early train. Only to 
Joe did he impart his new-found knowledge and it 
puzzled the latter as much as it disgusted Fat. If 
ever two boys felt they were in the heart of a worth- 
while mystery it was these two. If ever two experi- 
enced the sickening sensation of seeing the lights 
snapped out, it was this same pair. 

But, because they could find no answer to what 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 165 


had happened, it did not dampen their ardor for the 
hunt. Long and whispered conferences all led to 
the same conclusion. The attack on Connelly had a 
direct connection with the Mayhew contracts, there- 
fore a vital bearing on Camp Mayhew. The way 
to the desired end lay before them. They were 
sure of that. But it was a way deep in shadows, 
blocked by seemingly impassable objects but a way 
to be explored at any price. Only one thing was 
changed. Harvey now had a loyal supporter in his 
suspicions of Henry Stone. 

A dozen times, at least, they went over the ground 
covered by Connelly’s assailant in his flight. It 
was the one point on which they could not agree. 
Harve was convinced that the man had followed the 
course which the chief declared was the only logical 
one for him to take ; that he had leaped the Stones’ 
back fence, gone through the adjoining yard and fled 
down the next street to a waiting automobile. Joe 
held an entirely different view and was more than 
amazed when the heretofore suspicious Fat would 
not listen. The second point that drove them to the 


166 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


verge of distraction was what had brought Jackson 
to the scene at the psychological moment and who 
and what he really was. 

At least one visible result of the Connelly affair 
was immediately forthcoming, although it was vigor- 
ously denied that there was any connection between 
the two events. A guard was put about the Mayhew 
plant and word went out that the buildings were a 
healthy place to keep away from, unless one had 
business there. It was the formation of this 
auxiliary force which, the boys thought, gave them 
their longed-for opportunity. Again they marched 
to the door of Mr. Mayhew’s office and were or- 
dered in. 

“ Umph ! ” exclaimed the old gentleman, a sus- 
picion of a twinkle in the depths of his eyes. “ Pri- 
vate detective force, eh? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ That’s just what we came to see you about, sir.” 

“ Ha! Found out something, have you? ” 

‘‘No, sir,” confessed Joe. “We’ve come to see 
if we can’t work out some of our debt to you.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 167 


“ Don’t owe me anything.” 

“ You haven’t forgotten those bonds and Camp 
Stephen Mayhew?” Fat was plainly frightened at 
the thought. 

“ Had. Went a long way toward paying off that 
little score when you saved Connelly’s life.” 

“ But we’d have done what we did for any one.” 
Joe was the embarrassed one now. 

“ Would, would you? ” The man glanced at him 
from under the bushy brows. “ Guess you would. 
Tell you what I’m going to do. Half those bonds 
go into an envelope marked ‘ Camp Stephen May- 
hew, Lowell and Foster, trustees.’ ” 

“ Do you mean — ” Joe gulped. “ Do you 
mean — ” 

“ Mean what I say; say what I mean.” 

“ Oh! Oh! Thank you, Mr. Mayhew, sir.” 

“ Don’t have to,” cut in the old gentleman. “ You 
earned ’em. Thanks r are not necessary for value 
received. What do you want? ” 

It was all either boy could do to control his joy. 
That half of Camp Mayhew should have fallen into 


168 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


their laps in this way was beyond belief. Neither 
had given possible reward for the part they had 
played the vaguest thought. With a half interest 
thrust into their hands so unexpectedly, the whole 
seemed almost within reach. And, if Mr. Mayhew 
chanced to appreciate anything they had done in 
such lavish style, surely he must be ready to help 
them really earn the rest. In their innocence, they 
had not the remotest idea how many times over they 
had saved him that thousand dollars’ worth of 
Liberty Bonds already. But the old boss was wise, 
even for his generation. He knew character when 
he saw it and he had not the least intention of spoil- 
ing these two lads by making victory too easy for 
them. 

“ What do you want? ” he repeated, with a keen 
glance. 

“ But we haven’t begun to thank you,” Joe began 
all over again. 

There was no mistaking the old gentleman’s satis- 
faction over their enthusiasm, but it pleased him to 
seem to put it aside. “ Thank yourselves, chiefly 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 169 


Joe/’ he retorted. “ Something brought you here, 
didn’t it? ” 

“ Well,” agreed Joe, with a little sigh of satis- 
faction, “ if you won’t let us thank you, you’ve made 
it easier for us to ask for jobs.” 

“ Thought you were already working for me. 
Aren’t you ? ” 

“ We liked the sample so much,” grinned Harvey, 
“ we want a whole chunk. We’ve heard you were 
looking for more men for the new guard. We 
thought we could do some of the day work in spots 
where men might not be absolutely necessary. 
We’re pretty husky,” he rushed on, not making the 
set speech both had prepared to deliver as a dialog, 
“ and we can do as we’re told and we know ’most 
everybody and — and — everything,” he finished 
triumphantly. 

“ You’re in high school, aren’t you? ” 

“ Closes next week. We could surely begin 
work then.” 

“ And most of the money we’d earn we’d turn 
back for the rest of those bonds,” pleaded Harvey. 


170 THE BOY SCOUTS 

“ We’re Scouts and we know how to do as we’re 
told.” 

“ Umph ! Parents know about this, do they ? ” 

“ No, sir. But they’d be only too glad to have 
us do something to help along the war. And we’re 
too young to fight, you know.” 

“ Thought your father didn’t know about this, 
Joe. Better talk with him about it.” 

“ He’lPlet me, sir; I know he’ll let me.” 

“ So’ll mine,” echoed Harvey. 

“ Talk with ’em first,” ruled Mr. Mayhew. 

“ Can we say you’ll give us a job, if they’re will- 
ing? ” thrilled Harve. 

“ Guess so, if they agree.” 

“ When do we begin?” Fat was almost beside 
himself. He had had very small hopes of success. 
He was growing to enjoy these visits to the office. 
He wondered why he had ever been afraid of the old 
boss. If ever a town had gained a wrong impres- 
sion of a kindly, genial, lovable old gentleman, Gill- 
field was that town and Mr. Mayhew was that man 
“ Missing a week of school wouldn’t hurt me much,” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 171 

It was then that the old boss did the unbelievable. 
“ But consider the school/’ he suggested, and 
chuckled aloud at one of the few jokes he had ever 
attempted. “Now go away; I’m very busy.” 

“ Yes, sir. Thank you ever so much.” 

“ Can’t ever thank you for all you’ve done for 
us, sir. We’ll be back right off to go to work.” 

It was Fat who made this promise. If ever a boy 
saw rainbows at all four points of the compass at 
the same time it was Harvey. A job would mean 
much to him at this time. Maybe it would even go 
far toward offsetting the still unpleasant atmosphere 
in the Foster home. But, even better, it would give 
him a chance to do his share toward winning Camp 
Stephen Mayhew for the Wolf Patrol. It would 
be the proudest day in Harvey’s life when he could 
stand at Joe’s right hand and modestly confess to 
the other six what they two had done for their 
fellow Scouts. 

As they raced homeward, all they could babble 
was about the generosity of the old boss. Fat, 
loyal if nothing else, still believed that Joe had done 


172 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


a great deal to deserve the gift, but Joe could not 
grasp the idea. He had only done his duty, and 
he believed that Mr. Mayhew was but concealing his 
generosity behind a convenient excuse. Neither 
speculated much as to the future, for neither had 
the least idea but that their parents would welcome 
any opportunity for them to play a little part in 
the war during their summer vacation. The asking 
of permission was a mere form to satisfy some 
whim of Mr. Mayhew’s and anything the old boss 
wished, now and henceforth, they would both do 
blindly. 

“ Be up right after dinner, old top,” promised 
Harve, as he turned into his own yard. “ Won’t 
take my dad three seconds to tell me to get on the 
job. Suppose we’ll be given uniforms to wear? 
Bet the leather things on your legs are going to be 
hot in August.” 

“ Suppose we’ll have ’em ? And pistols?” Joe 
grinned at the thought. 

“ Well,” Harve hesitated, “ maybe we won’t get 
pistols. Guess I’d be more deadly with a rifle. But 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 173 

we’ll get uniforms, all right, all right. Say, won’t 
it be great to salute each other ! ” 

“ Great’s the word!” declared the excited Joe. 
“ Suppose we can get jobs for the other fellows? ” 
“ Sure ! After we’ve made good. Mr. Mayhew 
will do anything for us. We’ll tackle him about that 
about day after to-morrow. Hi, Hec ! ” The yel- 
low peril of Gillfield came dashing across from 
Tug’s back door and proceeded to risk many dire 
and contagious diseases by licking Fat’s good right 
hand. “ Bet we can train him to be a police dog,” 
Fat said, in an awed voice. “ That would give us a 
terrible stand-in with the old boss.” 

“ Shut up! Here comes Tug. We can’t let him 
know yet.” 

“Say, where you fellers been?” Tug gulped 
twice and the last half of his luncheon was at rest. 
“ Been looking for you. Nick wants to get up a 
game of scrub this after.” 

“ Nothin’ doin’ ! I’ve got a date.” 

“Oh, quit tryin’ to be mysterious, Fat! You’re 
queering yourself.” 


174 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ That’s my hard luck ! ” was the unsympathetic 
retort. “ Guess my feed must be ready. See you 
later, Joe.” With that he stalked into the Foster 
home with what he believed to be a military stride. 

Tug looked at the always friendly Joe. “ What’s 
doin’?” he asked. “ Tain’t like Fat to be swelled 
all out of shape over nothin’ a-tall.” 

Joe, who was fonder of the little fellow than most 
of the other boys, was quick to catch the hurt note. 
One arm went over Tug’s shoulder. “ Harve 
doesn’t mean it that way, Tuggie,” he said. “ He’s 
just excited, that’s all.” 

“ I know that. But ever since you two fellows 
saved Jim’s life — ” 

“ We didn’t,” Joe declared promptly. “ We just 
happened to be there, that’s all. You’d have done 
just what we did.” 

“ I would not. I’d be running yet. I suppose 
it’s all right, though. But we fellows sorter miss 
you two, Joe.” 

Joe knew this criticism to be unjust. He had not 
neglected the Patrol nor had he kept aloof from the 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 175 

main body of his friends. Not as much of his time 
had been his own, that was all. If Tug only knew 
about Camp Stephen Mayhew, he would never have 
made such a charge. Joe was sure of that. “ Sorry 
you’ve missed me,” he said, “ but, honestly, I don’t 
see how you’ve had time to. You may, though.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I may go to work.” 

“You! Where? When? Oh, gee!” Tug 
sounded envious. 

“ Can’t tell you more just yet, old fellow. It’s 
still a secret. But I’ve*as good as got a job for the 
summer ■ — maybe longer. But that’s a secret be- 
tween us two.” 

“ For how long? ” 

“ Till I tell you.” 

“ Does any one else know ? ” 

“ Only Fat.” 

“ None of the rest? ” 

“ Not one of ’em.” 

“You bet I won’t tell!” stated Tug, almost as 
puffed up as Harve, now that his idol had confided a 


176 THE BOY SCOUTS 

real, vital secret to him ; “ you bet I won’t tell. You 
can trust me.” 

“ Wouldn’t have told you, if I hadn’t known 
that,” laughed Joe. “ I’ve got to rush along to 
dinner. See you later.” 

“ I’ll be hanging round here,” promised the busy 
Tug. “ Hec saw a cat here yesterday; he likes this 
place. So long!” 

“ So long! ” Joe went on up the street, whistling 
cheerily, more than pleased with the world in gen- 
eral and the way it was treating him. 

He went into his own house, the whistle growing 
less shrill but more triumphant. He wanted to see 
his mother and break the good news to her. That 
she could consider it anything but good news, never 
occurred to him. Nor had he the slightest doubt 
as to how his father would receive his request for 
permission to go to work. All that puzzled him in 
any way was Mr. Mayhew’s insistence that the 
paternal consent must be forthcoming before the 
actual details were settled. 

He had expected to find his mother in the dining- 


OF THE WOLF PATHOL 177 

room. She always went there a few minutes before 
Mr. Lowell arrived home, to make sure everything 
was ready. But, as he started down the hall, he 
heard his father’s voice in the sitting-room. There 
was something in its tone which would have made 
the boy stop, even were it not for the surprise of 
finding him at home before half after twelve. Joe, 
from whom his parents had few secrets, turned 
through the half-opened door. 

But he stopped on the threshold. Everything told 
him something had happened. His father stood by 
the center table, a telegram in his hand, his face 
glowing with excitement. But over by the window, 
her back to the room and her shoulders bowed, stood 
his mother, her handkerchief crumpled into a tight 
little ball with which she dabbed at her eyes. “ I 
know I'm a coward and a slacker and everything 
contemptible,” he heard her gulp, “ but you mean 
so much to me, Jack.” 

“ Don’t be foolish, Mary. It’s only Washington. 
Even if I should go overseas, I wouldn’t be taking 
any more chances than thousands of others are 


178 THE BOY SCOUTS 

taking. It’s war. We’ve all got to make sacrifices, 
and ours is a mighty small one.” 

“ Father!” 

The man wheeled around. “ Hello, Joe!” he 
cried. “ How do you think your old dad will look 
in a uniform? ” 

The boy’s eyes grew round. He didn’t compre- 
hend in the least. The only thing he did understand 
was that something was paining his mother. In- 
stinctively he sidled across the room until he felt 
his hand in hers. “ I don’t know quite what you 
mean,” he confessed slowly, “ but I think I’d like 

lL ’ X 

“Oh, Joe!” 

“ So would you, mother,” he said. “ Dad would 
look splendid. And be splendid, too.” 

For a moment she gazed at her son, then her free 
hand swept out in a little sign of surrender. “ My 
men are against me,” she said, with a brave smile; 
“ what can I do ? ” 

“ Keep on smiling,” declared Mr. Lowell, his arm 
about her. “ I knew you’d see it in its true light.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 179 


“ I suppose I must. I guess it was the way you 
broke the news to me. I’d never thought of their 
taking you. I hadn’t thought that the war’d hit 
me, too.” 

“ It’s going to hit most of us before it’s over,” he 
replied soberly. “ I should have told you in an 
easier way. I was excited and, of course, sur- 
prised.” 

“ You shouldn’t have been,” she stated loyally. 
“ They’ve got to have you. They can’t get along 
without you and you know it.” 

Joe, beginning to think that life was just one 
mystery after another, found his tongue. “ What’s 
happened?” he asked. “ Who’s taken dad? Not 
the draft? ” 

“ Too old for that, sonny. ’Fraid neither of us 
can shoulder a gun in this war. But I’ve been 
offered a majority in the Ordnance Department. 
Mr. Mayhew wants me to accept. Says it’s every 
one’s duty to do anything the government asks.” 

“ Whew ! ” 

“ But he can’t get on without you, Jack. You’ re 


180 THE BOY SCOUTS 

more than his right hand man now that Steve’s 
gone.” 

“ He’s the gamest old thoroughbred who ever 
snorted flame,” declared Mr. Lowell enthusiastically. 
“ He wouldn’t listen to that part. Said he was able 
to do my work, too. Said he supposed he’d have 
to do every one’s work until the government decided 
it really needed the good men and ordered him over- 
seas. And he’d go, too,” he declared ; “ he’d go, 
and he’d keep going, as long as there was a Hun left 
to chase.” 

“ When are you going? ” 

“ I’m ordered to report within ten days of accept- 
ing my commission, Joe. I imagine the sooner the 
better. They must need men, to send for me this 
way.” 

“ Don’t try to belittle yourself,” commanded Mrs. 
Lowell, her head up. “ You know they need you 
for special work and that they’ve picked you because 
you’re the best man there is. It’s going to be rather 
hard for Joe and me, though, behind in Gillfleld. 
But we’ll be good soldiers, too, won’t we, son? ” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 181 

“Of course we will, mother.” 

t( Who said you were going to stay in Gillfield ? ” 
demanded Mr. Lowell. “ You’re coming to Wash- 
ington just as soon as as I can find a place for us 
to live.” 

“Oh!” Joe’s exclamation was thoughtful. 
“ Oh ! That’s what Mr. Mayhew meant when he 
said I’d have to see you before he could offer me a 
job. He knew about this all the time.” 

“What job? What have you been doing?” 
asked his mother. 

“ Harve and I asked Mr. Mayhew to let us be 
day guards at the plant.” 

“ But you’re only children,” she cried. 

The father glanced at the sturdy son and his eyes . 
sparkled. “ Pretty healthy specimen of a child,” he 
chuckled. “ Perhaps you can get a job in Wash- 
ington, Joe. You’ll miss Gillfield.” 

Miss Gillfield! He’d never dreamed of leaving 
Gillfield before. The idea staggered him. He had 
never lived anywhere else. All his friends were 
here. It meant transferring the treasured leadership 


182 THE BOY SCOUTS 

of the Wolf Patrol to some one else. It meant leav- 
ing Harve for an indefinite time. It meant — 
everything. Already his heart was set on really 
working for Mr. Mayhew, really earning money 
toward paying for that other five hundred dollars’ 
worth of bonds which would make Camp Stephen 
Mayhew a reality, not a vivid dream. He wanted 
time to adjust himself to these new conditions. 

Then he caught a glimpse of his mother’s face. 
All her life, too, had been spent in Gillfield. Ever 
since her marriage she had lived in this house. But 
there was no twitching of the sweet lips, no hesitancy 
in the big blue eyes, only trust and faith and loyalty 
as she looked up into her husband’s face. Joe 
caught his breath with a quick, sharp gasp. 

“You’re commanding officer, Major,” he said, 
with a little laugh. “ We’re going to do just as 
you want us to do.” 


CHAPTER IX 


A HUNCH AND A THEORY 

The two weeks which followed Major Lowell’s 
departure were like a rushing, whirling dream to 
Joe. The thought that he might go to Washington 
was always uppermost in his mind and it had become 
so fascinating that he quite refused to believe he 
really would go, for, should the unforeseen happen, 
he knew the disappointment would be all the keener. 

Harvey was left dumb by the news. To him 
there was no more question about Joe’s departure 
than about his conviction that the end of the world 
was close at hand. Never had he considered being 
separated from his life-long friend. Even going 
to work at the Mayhew plant failed to lift him from 
a vivid case of blues. Half the fun was out of the 
job now that Alex Cotton had taken the place Joe 
had asked for. And the fact that they were armed 
with whistles, instead of rifles, was a bitter blow. 


183 


184 THE BOY SCOUTS 

In fact what, to them, was the certainty of Joe’s 
departure took all the joy out of life for the whole 
of the Wolf Patrol. 

Yet, with all there was to keep him busy, Joe 
found much time to speculate about the inertia of 
Chief O’Connor. No apparent effort was being 
made to solve the Connelly mystery. It was as if 
the whole affair had been forgotten as quickly as 
the unknown man had disappeared into the night. 
Nor was the boy the only one dissatisfied. Connelly 
had far more friends than enemies in Gillfield and 
criticism of the police was as open as it was caustic. 

Fat and Joe discussed the identity of Mr. Jackson 
time after time. They were as puzzled over this 
as they were over his disappearance. As for his 
connection with the affair, and especially as to why 
he should have chanced to have been across the street 
when Jim had been struck down, that was utterly 
beyond them. Of only one thing were they con- 
fident; it had not been mere coincidence. 

Harvey, whose curiosity was as hungry as his 
stomach, did his work as a day guard in the factory 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 185 

yard with his eyes on every one who passed and his 
big ears spread wide to catch any whisper from 
within. Nothing could shake his belief that the 
German General Staff had centered its whole plan 
of campaign about the destruction of the Mayhew 
plant. But Joe’s inability to identify Stone as Con- 
nelly’s assailant during that hastily staged bit of 
near-melodrama, had bewildered his heretofore 
stubborn young mind. Yet Joe, as he thought the 
whole affair over and over, became more confident 
that his first impression was a fairly good one. 

It was Harvey-of-the-Ears who, one evening, 
rushed up to the Lowell home and stood whistling 
like a whooping crane under the dining-room win- 
dow until Joe’s head appeared. “ Come on in, 
Harve,” he commanded, “ and stop that racket.” 

“ Took you long enough to come to life,” observed 
Fat, disgustedly. “ Come on out ; I’ve something 
mighty important to tell you.” 

“ Come in and tell it.” 

“ Can’t. It’s mighty important.” 

“If that’s Harvey,” came Mrs. Lowell’s voice 


186 THE BOY SCOUTS 

from the table, “ tell him to come in and have a piece 
of chocolate cake.” 

Harvey heard that message and, for a second, his 
soul thrilled. But the next, his head shook. “ 111 
wait out here,” he answered sternly. “ Come’s soon 
as you can.” 

Joe, who was now sure that it was at least the 
old boss who had been found with his throat slit, 
bolted the rest of the meal and the house. “ What 
is it?” he demanded as he dashed around the 
corner. “ Has the chief made an arrest? ” 

“ Chief nothin’ ! ” snorted Fat. “ O’Connor’s a 
dead one ! ” He caught his friend by the elbow and 
led him toward the secrecy of an apple tree. “ Mrs. 
Stone’s vamoosed,” he stated excitedly. 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Disappeared,” he repeated; “ vanished, beat it.” 

“ How do you know? ” 

“ W ell, for one reason, I saw her going toward 
the station with a bag and shadowed her. For 
another I saw her get on the evening train. For 
the third, I saw the train go. For a fourth, I saw 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 187 


her sitting in a window as it went. Want any more, 
you bonehead ? ” 

“ Doesn’t hit me as especially mysterious,” con- 
fessed Joe, thinking of the piece of cake still on his 
plate. 

“ Doesn’t, doesn’t it ? Too bad ! ” Harve’s voice 
was a mixture of pain and deep, deep sympathy for 
such stupidity. “ Let’s begin at the beginning,” he 
said, with a patient sight. “ Ever know her to go 
away before? ” 

“ Never knew much about her, one way or the 
other.” 

“ Answer the question.” 

" Have.” 

“ All right.” He sighed hopelessly, as if a long 
and painful explanation lay ahead. “ I just dropped 
into the Connellys’, sorter careless-like, on my way 
up. She’s been chummy with Mrs. Jim ever since 
Jim’s been done up. Mrs. Connelly didn’t know she 
was going away. Make anything of that? ” 

“ Might have been called away,” suggested Joe. 
“ Maybe some of her family’s sick.” 


188 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Guess all of ’em are everlastingly sick an’ going 
to be sicker. They’re in Hunland. I tell you 
somethin’s beginning to get ready to be doing. You 
weren’t so blamed wrong when you said it was Stone 
who beaned Connelly. They’re getting ready to do 
a get-away and they’re not going together.” 

“ You’re seein’ things,” came the comforting 
answer. 

“ Am, am I ? I tell you, there’s somethin’ doin’. 
I know. The chief was down to see the boss this 
after. Had a stranger with him. They were in 
the office almost two hours. How’s that ? ” he de- 
manded, stuffing his hands into his trousers pockets 
and looking at his friend triumphantly. “ How’s 
that ? ” he repeated. 

“ Don’t see wfiat on earth that’s got to do with 
Mrs. Stone.” 

“ Neither do I, yet. But it has. It’s our business 
to find out.” 

Joe smiled. “ Even if we know the chief had 
some real clew, I can’t see how it would lead to Mrs. 
Stone,” he said. “ It was a man who hit Jim. All 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 189 


Mrs. Stone has done is to help Mrs. Connelly every 
way she could. Everybody knows that.” 

“ Then why did she fly the coop ? ” insisted Harve. 
“ The minute the chief shows up with a stranger, 
and goes into session with the boss, why does she fly 
the coop ? Answer me that ? I ask you ! ” 

“ How should I know ? ” 

“ Exactly,” agreed Fat, as if a great weight had 
been removed from his over-burdened shoulders; 
“ how should you? You should, but how? That's 
why I came to you right off. We've got to get to 
work. Mr. Mayhew will expect it of us.” 

“ Expect what of us? ” Joe was rapidly losing, 
not only his patience, but his reasoning powers. 
“ Have you been standing in the sun all day ? ” 

Fat ignored the implication. It was no time, he 
thought, to be frivolous. “ Mr. Mayhew will expect 
us to slip him this info, immediately,” he said 
pompously. “ Do you suppose he'll think it worth 
giving us that other five hundred dollars’ worth of 
bonds for? ” he asked, in sudden excitement. 

“ More apt to think it's worth a trimming for 


190 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


disturbing him,” grunted Joe. “ Let’s hunt up the 
rest of the crowd. We ought to have a meeting of 
the Patrol. If I’m going away, I want to turn over 
the leadership to some one else.” 

“No one’s keener about the Wolves than I am,” 
stated Harvey, “ but you’re on the wrong track. If 
you want to do the Patrol a good turn, come on over 
to Mr. Mayhew’s till we cinch that camp. I know 
what I’m talking about.” 

“ You can’t prove it by me,” Joe commented. 
“ You’re dotty, and all you’ll get over there at the 
big house will be one fine, young call-down. You’ll 
go over there and gum the whole thing.” 

Fat gazed at him a long minute, his round face 
despondent “Joe,” he mournfully acknowledged, 
“ you’ve a pile more sense and ’most always you’re 
right about things. Most of my life I’ve done about 
as you’ve asked; won’t you do as I want, just this 
once ? ” 

Joe didn’t stop to analyze anything further. 
What Fat had said was more than true. Even if 
the old boss did storm them out of the house it was 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 191 

as nothing compared with such loyalty. “ Sure, 
I’ll go! ” he agreed on the instant. “ I didn’t know 
you felt that way about it.” 

“ I do,” confessed Harvey stolidly. “ It’s the 
first real hunch I’ve ever had and I want to play it 
straight through the ninth inning. I’ll take all the 
blame.” 

“ We’ll divvy, as per usual,” said Joe, with a smile. 
“ Come on, old Herlock Sholmes.” 

“ Hurry up, then.” 

Fat, in his eagerness, made a break for the hedge 
which separated the big Mayhew place from the 
Lowells’ small one. “ Come back here ! ” ordered 
his friend.” We’ll go round, and not start in wrong 
by smashing a hole in that thing. If we haven’t 
anything else, we’ve plenty of time.” 

“ Have it your own way.” Fat tried to be very 
generous, although far from being in agreement. 
Time, according to his ideas, was one of the very 
few things they didn’t have. That “ hunch ” was 
getting stronger every minute and the temptation 
was to humor it. Nevertheless, he started for the 


192 THE BOY SCOUTS 

street and the round-about away. But his pace was 
like that of a blood-hound in full cry. 

“ Want to get there so winded you’ll gasp like a 
fish?” called Joe. “Ease up, Harve! What are 
you goin’ to say ? ” 

Fat skidded through the front gate before apply- 
ing the brakes. “ Why,” he retorted placidly, 
“ you’re going to do the talking.” 

“ I told you that hunch wasn’t good for anything.” 

“ Do you mean you won’t ? ” 

“You bet!” 

“ Oh, gee ! Say, Joey, quit foolin’ ! Sure, you’re 
going to do the talking. You always do.” 

“ This is your party,” came the firm answer. 
“ I’m just tagging along and backing you up.” 

For once in his career, Harvey Foster surprised 
the friend of his bosom. “ All right,” he agreed, 
“ I’ll talk. It’s worth the chance. But you kick my 
shins, if I get burbling.” 

“ I’ll promise — and I’ll be busy. But you re- 
member you asked me to, and don’t be sore after we 
get thrown out.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 193 


“ You sure do give a feller a heap of courage,” 
grinned Fat, finding it quite impossible to be serious 
all the time. “ Suppose they’re through dinner? ” 

“ They won’t ask you in for any dessert, if they’re 
not. Sorry I made you come this long way, if it’s 
bringing back your appetite.” 

Harvey merely snorted as they started up the 
long, winding drive. It was the first time either of 
them had been on the Mayhew place since Mr. Steve 
had gone and familiar ground brought back memo- 
ries which made them quiet and just a trifle home- 
sick. The dying light made the shrubbery and wide 
lawns seem more lonesome than ever, and, up above 
them, the big gray house looked stern and for- 
bidding. 

Even Fat’s “ hunch ” began to lose its courage- 
giving powers when it came time to ring the bell, 
and it was Joe who had to ask the maid if Mr. May- 
hew was at home. Harve had not only lost his 
voice, he would have refused ice cream, had he been 
invited into the big dining-room. 

It was a very quiet pair who were ushered into a 


194 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


small reception-room and left to twirl tlreir caps 
with chilling fingers-. At the end of ten minutes, 
Harvey tore his eyes away from the open window. 
“ I’ll go through that, if I look at it any longer,” he 
confessed. “ Suppose the old boss is going to sit 
right through and eat breakfast, too ? ” 

“ Looks so,” acknowledged Joe. 

“You do the talkin’,” urged Harve, desperately; 
“ my mouth’s dry.” 

Joe started to refuse, but the imperative ringing 
of an electric bell in a distant part of the house made 
him stop to listen. It hardly ceased before it began 
again and kept up, even as the maid hurried down 
the hall. “ I must see Mr. Mayhew at once, Mary,” 
they heard a voice declare, in a tone which left no 
doubt as to the urgency of the need. Something 
was wrong. 

“It’s Mr. Nelson!” whispered Fat. “What’s 
happened ? ” 

The next instant Mr. Nelson entered the room, so 
intent on his own business that he did not notice 
the boys till they sprang to their feet. “ Hello ! ” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 195 

he exclaimed, the frown deepening on his forehead. 
“ What brings you here ? ” 

“ Found out something we thought Mr. May-* 
hew ought to know,” replied Harvey promptly. 
“ We’ve been waiting some time to see him.” 

“ What is it?” 

Harvey hesitated but, before he could quite make 
up his mind to share his secret with the Scout Com- 
missioner, Mr. Mayhew stalked into the room. 
“ Well, George? ” he demanded sharply. 

Mr. Nelson nodded a quick greeting and his brows 
went up questioningly as he looked across at the 
two lads. 

“ What they don’t know, they’re clever enough to 
suspect,” the grim old man replied to the unspoken 
query. “ I trust ’em. We may need ’em. Wis- 
dom from mouths of babes and fools. I’ve been a 
fool. What is it?” 

Mr. Nelson took a quick, long breath and it was 
evident that what he was about to say hurt every 
fiber in him. “ Young Dick Hunt, our assistant 
teller, has made a mess of things,” he stated. ** If 


196 THE BOY SCOUTS 

he had a grain of intelligence, I’d say he was a 
crook.” 

The boys gasped. They had known Dick all their 
lives. 

“ Well?” The old boss’s voice was insistent. 

“ I’d ordered them all to tell me the instant Stone 
applied to get into his safe deposit box. Crocker 
went to luncheon when I did, leaving Hunt in charge 
of the vaults. Mrs. Stone came in, asked him to 
help her open their box, and he did. Says that I 
didn’t give any orders about her and that’s why he 
didn’t tell me about it. Only found out by acci- 
dent.” 

Mr. Mayhew emitted something so akin to a roar 
that Harvey jumped. “ Have you notified O’Con- 
nor?” he demanded. 

“ Yes.” 

He stopped half way in his quick turn across the 
room. “ Maybe we’re in luck, for once,” he said 
with a slight smile. “ We can get everything at 
Stone’s house now.” 

“ That’s what I thought. That’s what I told 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 197 


O’Connor and the Department of Justice agent. 
They’re on their way there now. But I thought you 
should know immediately.” 

Harvey Foster had stood all a human boy could 
stand. He began to do that one thing Joe had 
warned him against. “ You’re too late,” he 
burbled. “ Don’t know what she’s got you want, 
but she’s flown the coop with it.” 

“What’s that?” The two men whirled on him 
and one of Mr. Mayhew’s great hands gripped his 
shoulder till the bones threatened to crunch. “ Say 
that again.” 

“ She’s flew th’ coop,” choked Harve. 

“ He means Mrs. Stone left town an hour ago,” 
explained Joe, his eyes beginning to grow large as 
he began to appreciate Harve’s “ hunch ” was a very 
important part of something he could not fathom. 

“ How do you know ? ” 

“ Saw her.” 

“ Why didn’t you tell some one ? ” 

“ That’s what we came here to tell you, sir. 
We’ve been waiting twenty minutes to tell you.” 


198 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Which train? Quick !” 

“ Six-thirty.” 

“ She’ll change at the Junction for the Boston ex- 
press. George,” he commanded, “ get O’Connor on 
the ’phone.” 

“ Told you they were on their way to Stone’s, 
sir.” 

The old man roared his rage. Just as the long 
and secretly planned trap had been ready to spring, 
stupidity had balked him. And he was not used to 
being balked. His eye fell on Joe. “Run!” he 
commanded. “ Catch O’Connor before he reaches 
Stone’s. Tell him to head off the woman by wire 
and arrest the man. Go ! ” 

Joe obeyed. All he knew was what he could guess 
and piece together, but it all told him that it was 
Henry Stone whose capture depended on his speed 
and that he was wanted for more than assault upon 
Jim Connelly. Knowledge that the Department of 
Justice was taking a hand, remembrance of the mys- 
terious Mr. Jackson, and this new matter of the safe 
deposit box, all bore out his belief that Stone was 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 199 

not only a would-be murderer but that his motive 
was the crippling of the Mayhew plant. He ran as 
he had never run, for he believed now that, alone 
and in the dark, he had dared rush in on a German 
secret agent and that he was now going to play a 
part in his capture. O’Connor’s inactivity was ex- 
plained at last. The Connelly case was only a link 
in a plot which the government authorities had been 
watching develop until it was ripe to pick. 

As he sped down the hill, he heard the sound of 
an automobile coming up. It stopped before the 
Stones’. Two men leaped out. With a final sprint, 
Joe threw his arms about the startled O’Connor and 
clung to him while he panted. “Arrest him! ” he 
gasped. “ Mr. Mayhew says arrest him.” 

“ What is it? What’s happened? ” 

“ Never mind.” It was the stranger who spoke. 
“ Mayhew says act; act.” 

The chief, who had been king in his own kingdom 
for years, was growing thoroughly sick of being a 
mere taker of orders. “ I will, when I know more 
about it,” he grumbled. 


200 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


44 You know this boy ? ” 

44 < Yes.” 

44 He’s straight? ” The questions came like shots 
from a machine gun. 

“ Yes.” 

44 Then act.” 

The chief saw his official life coming to an abrupt 
conclusion if he hesitated another moment. He also 
saw much glory ahead, if he could capture Stone and 
capitalize the act. 44 Let’s go ! ” he said, and started 
for the house. 

Joe thought he was included and ran along at his 
heels. 44 Go back, youngster,” commanded the man 
he supposed must be the Department of Justice 
operative Mr. Nelson had referred to. 44 There may 
be shooting here.” 

But, if O’Connor hesitated, the boy did not. He 
felt he had faced worse than a gun half a block 
away. 44 He won’t shoot,” he said, as he followed 
up the steps ; 44 he’s all yellow.” 

44 Then streak round the house and watch the 
back. Yell, if he tries to break cover there.” The 



IN THE HAND OF EACH WAS SOMETHING BLUE AND COLD ’ 






OF THE WOLF PATROL 201 


man hurriedly wrenched the front door open. 
" Hustle ! ” 

Even as he sped around the corner, the boy saw 
the two officers leap into the house and in the hand 
of each was something blue and cold. Yet, hardly 
had he reached a spot from which he could watch 
the back door and windows, before remembrance 
turned him suddenly sick. 

Mr. Mayhew had told him to have O’Connor head 
off Mrs. Stone. He had failed in what he believed 
to be the crucial part of his trust. Even as the 
officers searched for Stone, his wife might be mak- 
ing good her escape with what she had secured at 
the bank. And this, the boy was sure, was what 
Mr. Mayhew wished to have captured above all 
else. There was but one way to make good his 
failure. Without considering the risk, he darted for 
the back door. 

It, too, was unlocked, but he did not give this a 
thought as he plunged into the dark kitchen. All 
he could think of was the need of finding one of the 
two officers and all he could be thankful for was 


202 THE BOY SCOUTS 

that first visit to the house which had made him 
familiar with its plan. 

From the kitchen, he turned toward the dining- 
room by way of the pantry. It, too, was dark. 
Speed was all he considered. He fumbled for the 
door knob, found it, sprang into the room. 

“ Hands up ! ” 

The grim, businesslike sharpness of the order sent 
his heart into his throat. “ It’s — it’s — ” 

“ Halt!” 

“ It’s — it’s only me.” 

“ Stand still or I’ll shoot ! ” 

This time the boy stopped. At last he realized 
his position, and just how fortunate he was not to 
have run into the excitable O’Connor in the dark. 
If ever a boy had taken a long chance, it was this 
one. “ It’s Lowell,” he whispered, his voice rasp- 
ing on his dry tongue. “ Mr. Mayhew says to head 
off Mrs. Stone. She’s on the six-thirty train.” 

A flash light broke the gloom, but Joe could only 
see the white bull’s-eye. A grim laugh came from 
behind it. “ Lord only knows why I didn’t pot 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 203 


you ! ” exclaimed the man. “ Next time you’re told 
to stick up your hands and stop, do it pronto. 
O’Connor’s upstairs.” 

“ I’ll find him.” Joe started for the door. 

The man grabbed him by the collar. “If you 
want to commit suicide, here’s my gun. Mix a 
little sense with some of your grit.” 

“ But Mr. Mayhew — ” 

'‘Five minutes won’t matter, youngster; we’ll 
finish this job first.” 

“ But the old boss — ” 

“You’ve delivered his message; I’ll be respon- 
sible. Get back in the yard. I’m going down 
cellar.” 

Joe did as he was told but, once more in the safety 
of the night, he began to appreciate just how close a 
call he had had. Cold chills began to run up his 
back and his knees trembled. Then came the 
thought of the two men searching through the dark 
house. He knew what the man in the cellar was 
hoping to meet at any instant, he realized what 
O’Connor hoped to face alone on the second floor. 


204 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


Each second he expected to hear the shots; each 
second that passed in silence meant so much less risk 
of life. Yet these two men not only took it all as 
part of the day’s work, but called it courage when 
he went in. 

Two minutes more and the cellar hatch went up. 
The secret service man came into the yard. “ Bird’s 
flown,” he said with a carelessness which made Joe 
start. “ Hi, Chief!” 

O’Connor’s head appeared at an attic window. 
“ Not here. Find anything? ” 

“ No. Light up, as you come down. I’ll go back 
through this way.” 

“ Where do I go? ” asked Joe. 

The operative looked him over. He liked this 
lad who wasn’t afraid and he caught the little note 
of excited longing in his voice. “ Come with me, 
if you want,” he said; “ guess it’s safe.” 

It was. The house was deserted. But it had 
been deserted in a hurry. Rummaged drawers and 
burned papers in fireplaces told their story under 
the blaze of lights. Henry Stone had gone, and 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 205 


gone in a hurry. But before he had gone, he had 
evidently burned what he considered some important 
bridges behind him. “ We’ll go over this stuff 
later,” stated the man. “ What we want to do now 
is head off the madam. Call O’Connor. I’ll start 
the car. We need a telephone.” 

“ There’s one in the next room,” Joe ventured to 
suggest. 

“ Good for you! Never thought of that. Put- 
ting it all over me, youngster.” 

It was all so good-natured that Joe could not but 
think of how differently O’Connor would have taken 
the calling of his attention to an oversight. This 
man was big in his way; there was no doubt about 
that. 

For the next ten minutes Joe had a very good 
exhibition of how far reaching certain nets used to 
be. Telephone calls were put through with a speed 
which startled him, and orders were given with a 
crispness which made him wonder. Almost before 
he knew it, little waves had been started which would 
spread half way across the country within the hour. 


206 THE BOY SCOUTS 

A warning to one man meant a warning to ten more. 
It was as if he saw the action at the palm of a hand. 
The orders ran out to the fingers and, at each finger- 
tip, was a new hand with more fingertips and more 
hands beyond. 

“ We’ll have Frau Stone within the hour,” prom- 
ised the man. “ Friend husband’s going to give us 
a better run for our money. Now let’s see Mr. 
Mayhew, Chief, and check up.” 

“ All right,” agreed O’Connor, starting for the 
car. “ Leave the kid here, Sloan; we don’t need 
him any more. 

The operative saw Joe’s jaw drop and winked at 
him. “ Reckon we’d better keep him with us,” he 
said. “ He’s a dangerous character.” 

“ How’s that?” 

“ Knows too much. Also I’ve grown to like sand 
since I’ve been in this game. You stick close to me, 
young man,” he advised, his eyes twinkling as if he 
was not doing anything more important than taking 
a pleasant vacation in Gillfield. “ I’m always need- 
ing help. Hop into the tonneau.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 207 

Joe needed no second invitation. This man was 
almost as likable as Mr. Jackson. As they rushed 
up the hill to the Mayhew house, he wondered if the 
two were friends, if it could be possible that Mr. 
Jackson could also be connected with the secret ser- 
vice. But speculation was cut decidedly short as 
the machine stopped before the broad steps. Mr. 
Nelson had come out at the first sounds of the ap- 
proaching car. “ Did you catch him ? ” he asked 
anxiously. 

“ No, sir.” It was Chief O’Connor who an- 
swered. “ He evidently left town in a hurry. The 
house — ” 

“ Come in. Mr. Mayhew’ll want to hear it all.” 

This time the little party went past the reception- 
room, on down the long hall and into the old boss’s 
particular lair. A very much excited, and decidedly 
mystified, boy sat on the extreme edge of a great 
chair by the center table, while Mr. Mayhew himself 
walked back and forth, his hands clasped behind his 
back, his head shaking as he thought in silence. 

As Mr. Nelson stood aside to permit the new- 


208 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


comers to enter, Mr. Mayhew half turned and, see- 
ing Sloan, nodded. “ Too late ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ ’Fraid you would be. How about her? ” 

“ Ought to have her within an hour. They’ll 
telephone me here. It was a fortunate thing you 
found out about her going so soon.” 

“ These boys did it.” It was not a compliment, 
merely an acknowledgment of good work done and 
made by one man to another, and the boys thrilled 
as they caught its full meaning. 

“ Fine ! Fine ! ” agreed Sloan heartily. “ Any 
idea of where your man Stone is apt to head for? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Imagine he’ll meet his wife as soon as possible,” 
suggested Mr. Nelson. 

“ He certainly will,” agreed O’Connor. 

Sloan shook his head. “ Pardon me for saying 
it, gentlemen,” he said, “ but you’ve underestimated 
him too long already. It’s the one thing he won’t 
do.” 


Why? 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 209 

“ Because they’re too wise. They’ll communicate 
— if we don’t land one of them, but they won’t com- 
municate direct, I’ll stake my reputation on that.” 

“ But can you get them ? ” 

“ We people don’t stop until we do, Mr. Mayhew.” 

There was no boasting in the answer, only the 
simple statement of a custom. The secret service is 
patient but it never, never gives up. 

“ Pity you didn’t act this morning,” growled the 
old boss. “ Stone wasn’t even suspicious when you 
were talking with him in the office.” 

Sloan bit his lip. “ I really can’t agree with you, 
even now, sir,” he stated. “ While I then had 
strong suspicions concerning his wife, they were 
only suspicions. Now they’re rather well estab- 
lished by her headlong get-away. If we’d have 
sprung then, we’ve have caught one man and mighty 
little evidence to hold him with. While we might 
have been able to make him disappear, there would 
have been a hue and cry. Now, when we get him, 
we’ll get enough with him to make a good bag. This 
thing has other strings than the Mayhew plant.” 


210 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“What’s your theory?” asked Mr. Nelson, 
eagerly. 

Sloan thought a moment, then raised his eyes to 
Mr. Mayhew’s. “ I take it you vouch for every one 
here, sir? ” he asked. 

“ These boys work for me, have been on the case 
longer than you.” There was a queer little sug- 
gestion of a smile in the old blue eyes. “ Imagine 
they’ve a vital interest in it.” 

“ They the ones who were in the Connelly end ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Oh ! Sure, they’re all right ! But this is al- 
mighty tight under your hats, boys.” 

“We can keep a secret,” stated Joe. 

“ And our mouths shut,” promised the long- 
suffering Harvey. “ I’ve learned to do that.” 

“ All right. Then I’ll theorize for you, Mr. Nel- 
son, but, mind you, it’s only theory. If it works 
out, then I’ll call myself a shrewd guesser and that’s 
all.” 

“What you going to do, sit here and talk?'” 
growled O’Connor. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 211 


“ Might as well do that as pace the floor, Chief,” 
was the laughing reply. “ The telephone’s started 
all the wheels going. All we have to do is wait for 
them to grind. And there’s where you’ll hear the 
grinding from,” he added with a wave of his hand 
toward the instrument on the table. “ I’m an even 
smaller cog in a bigger machine than are your 
friends, the Steins.” 

The chief was becoming less and less pleased with 
-his part in the play. These newer methods were not 
at all to his liking. A good chief of police lives on 
publicity and much noticeable activity. This man 
evidently believed in neither. With a grunt, 
O’Connor sat down in a corner. Sloan leaned on 
the edge of the table, talking directly to Mr. May- 
hew. 

“ A few of you manufacturers did what we call 
‘ falling ’ for the * German expert ’ stuff,” he began. 
“ You took bright young Huns into your offices, be- 
cause you believed them better educated than our 
American boys. You let them into your confidence 
and your business secrets and they wrote long re- 


212 THE EOY SCOUTS 

ports back to a certain office in Berlin. And those 
reports were not all about business, either. The 
German Intelligence knows America from A to Z. 
The only thing it hasn’t got, is a true knowledge of 
American psychology. The only reason it hasn’t 
that is because the Hun is too stupid to believe that 
any one else on earth has brains. 

“ Now, I may be wrong,” he went on, “ but I’ll 
bet a new hat against a hole in a doughnut that your 
man Stein, or Stone, or whatever his real name is, 
is just an employee of the German Intelligence office. 
He was sent to this country, he was sent to Gillfield, 
he was told to stay here, to become an American 
citizen, to do everything to make you good people 
believe he was all United States. And, while he 
was doing these things, he was strongly reminded 
not to forget rather definite orders about monthly 
reports and he was given the address of some inno- 
cent appearing little delicatessen dealer through 
whom to forward them and from whom to take 
orders blindly. 

“ Also,” — and he smiled when he said it — 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 213 


“ he was given a certain sealed envelope and told to 
put it in some very safe place and not to open it until 
he received a telegram which had some prearranged 
key word in it. All this went on for years. Stein 
went back to Germany a few years ago, but his 
orders were so complete, so minute, that no changes 
were necessary. He brought a wife back with him. 
The great general staff was never too busy to neglect 
the brides of even its humblest agents. Frau Stone 
was probably neatly netted, bound and forced into 
the great game of ‘ helping the Fatherland,’ even 
if she wasn’t at it before. 

“ Then war came. Stone got his telegram with 
its key word. He opened his sealed envelope and 
there was a whole new set of instructions. Mind 
you, this is only guess work so far,” he said, “ But 
you asked my theory and I’m building it from what 
I’ve learned here and from past experiences in other 
places. He’d a new code on hand now — probably 
two of them. And he was given more addresses of 
unknown people from whom he was to take orders 
and whom he must absolutely obey.” 


214 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ But he’s an American,” protested Mr. Nelson; 
“ he wouldn’t do it.” 

“ A Hun’s ’most always a Hun, sir ; specially the 
younger generation of ’em. They’re brought up to 
obey, trained like dogs to take orders. Besides, I’m 
talking of their spies. So, when America entered 
the war, Stone was told what he had been planted in 
Gillfield for. The Mayhew plant would go over to 
government work; any fool could see that. For ten 
years, Heinrich Stein had been paid to live in Gill- 
field to make the Mayhew plant fail when the Hun 
needed it to fail. Until they were ready to strike 
us from the sea, they were going to stab us through 
our industries.” 

He took a long breath and turned squarely to Mr. 
Mayhew. “ You wouldn’t believe the first warning 
you received from Jackson, sir,” he reminded him; 
“ you said you’d trust Stone implicitly. He repaid 
that trust, unless I very much miss my guess, by 
first passing faulty steel through your testing room, 
then by falsifying certain gauges. When Connelly 
was intrusted with the master set, he saw his great 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 215 

chance. If he could steal them, he would close the 
plant. It was safe, sure, certain. He took the 
chance. These youngsters blocked it by happening 
along just too soon.” 

“ But it was Stone who returned the gauges to 
Mr. Mayhew,” grunted the chief. “ I saw him. 
He had them. He wouldn’t have given them up, 
after risking murder to get them — not if he’d 
wanted them that bad.” 

“ Don’t know the whys and wherefores of that 
part. All I’ve seen is some one else’s report. I do 
know that Stone was almighty clever in pulling the 
wool over every one’s eyes but those of one man. 
He didn’t fool him for one second, not with all his 
play acting and his offers of assistance. But he was 
after bigger game than Stone. He had him marked 
down, knew where he could find him, when 
he wanted him, and was willing to let events 
take their own course, for reasons of his own. 
And no harm’s come of it, either,” he added force- 
fully. 

“ Stone’s gotten away, so’s his wife,” suggested 


216 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


Mr. Mayhew, to whom this was now an old story 
and, therefore, slightly less bitter. 

Sloan laughed. “ They have — temporarily,” he 
agreed. “ But don’t overlook the fact that they’ve 
done this get-away with all the evidence we’re after 
concealed on their persons. Some one got wise, 
probably Stone himself. He’s been suspicious for a 
couple of weeks. We’ve known that. When he saw 
me, he probably decided it was time to move else- 
where. He suspected a trap. His wife, being a 
dutiful Hun, and having established a fine name for 
quietness and helpfulness among her neighbors, was 
ordered to get the secret orders and take ’em away 
from here. Maybe they divided ’em. If they were 
clever enough for that, it will mean a good deal more 
work. The Stones will interest us personally, but 
not nearly so much as what one, or both of them, 
has.” 

“ Gee! ” gulped Fat, his eyes bulging out of his 
round head. “ Gee ! I was right all the time ! ” 

“ You were,” agreed Mr. Mayhew. “ You boys 
have certainly been wide awake. But, once or 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 217 

twice,” he added with a queer smile, “ you’ve been 
perilously near upsetting the plans of some very 
powerful agencies which are not of Hun origin.” 

“ Where, sir? ” 

“ I’ll tell you when the Stones are safely arrested.” 
“ And you think they’ll catch them ? ” 

“ I do. I — ” 

He stopped, for just then a sharp ring made Sloan 
leap for the telephone. 


CHAPTER X 


THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK 

That night two boys left the Mayhew home in 
as agitated a state of mind as it was possible for 
two boys to be. From Sloan’s brief conversation 
over the telephone, they had gathered that something 
had gone wrong somewhere, somehow. But that 
was all. Sloan had hung up the receiver with no 
show of impatience, no sign of disappointment, and 
had turned to O’Connor. “ Guess you’re elected 
for a night motor trip, Chief,” he had said. “ How 
soon can we start ? ” 

“ What is it ? ” Mr. Mayhew had demanded. 

Sloan had looked at him, the corners of his mouth 
still drawn down into that near-smile. “ I could 
theorize about it, sir,” had been the retort; “ but, 
just at present, I’m not so keen about airing my 
thoughts as I was. I’ve only one thing to say, and 
218 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


219 


that’s to ask you not to worry.” Nor could even 
the insistence of the impatient old boss get more 
from him. With O’Connor, he had disappeared 
into the night, leaving the boys to wander home- 
ward with a feeling that a heavy, black curtain had 
been dropped suddenly before their eyes. 

Joe was keenly disappointed. He had thought 
that the triumphant end was close at hand; he had 
gone to bed with an impending sense of some evil 
event hanging low over his head. He woke in the 
morning to find his mother standing by his bed, a 
telegram in her hand, her lips twitching. “ I’ve 
some bad news for you, Joe,” she said. 

“ What — what is it?” He was up in a flash. 
“ Has anything happened to father ? ” 

“ No, it’s not quite so bad as that. Only we’re 
not going to Washington — not yet, at any rate.” 

“ Oh ! ” The relief was so great because nothing 
had happened to the major, that the crashing of his 
own dreams did not come to his mind. Then he re- 
membered. “ Why can’t we go ? ” he asked. 

“ Father can’t find a place for us to live. He 


220 THE BOY SCOUTS 

wires it’s very crowded there. But I know he’ll 
keep on trying.” 

Joe, too, knew. He knew other things as well. 
It was all his mother could do to keep back the 
tears of disappointment. “ Never mind,” he com- 
forted, “ he’ll find a place for us soon. He’s not the 
sort who fails.” 

“ I know he’s not, son.” 

“ And we’ll be with him before you know it,” he 
added. “ It’s all right, and I know we’re not half 
so disappointed as he is.” 

She saw how brave he was trying to be over his 
own broken plans and tried to say something, but 
suddenly turned and ran from the room. For a 
moment he stood looking at the door. “ Now see 
here,” he stated to himself, “ this sort of thing won’t 
do at all. I’ve got to forget I ever wanted to go to 
Washington. I’ve got to help mother. Guess I’ve 
my part right here at home.” 

As he hurried into his clothes, he became thor- 
oughly convinced that he was right. In his own joy, 
he had not grasped how longingly Mrs. Lowell had 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 221 


been counting the days before they could join the 
major. He went down the stairs whistling al- 
though there was a lump in his throat and he felt 
more like attempting a funeral, than a Sousa, march. 
Although he saw that his mother’s eyes were red, he 

t- 

started glibly on a gay story of Tug and Hec and, 
before they had finished the oatmeal, she was smil- 
ing again. But it was because she recognized the 
brave effort her boy was making to keep her cheer- 
ful, and not because her own heart was any the less 
sore. 

He tried to map out his future course of activity 
even as he talked. He did not quite like the idea 
of going to work now. He felt he should be at 
home as much as possible for the next week or so 
at least. But his half-formed plans were again 
wrecked on the instant this time, not by a telegram, 
but by a telephone. 

It was Mrs. Lowell who ran to answer the call 
and he knew that she had hoped that it might prove 
a contradictory message from his father. But in a 
minute she was back. “ Mr. Nelson wants you to 


222 THE BOY SCOUTS 

report to him at the bank at once,” she said. “ He 
told me it was very important and not to worry un- 
til I saw you again. But what is it, Joe? Do you 
know?” 

He shook his head. The memory of last night 
came back. “ I don’t know,” he said ; “ something 
happened last night. Maybe it’s to do with that.” 

“ What happened ? ” 

“ I can’t tell you,” he said slowly. “ Mr. May- 
hew made me promise not to tell any one. It’s all 
right,” he added quickly, as he saw her expression 
change. “ Nothing’s wrong with any of us boys.” 

“ Is it — is it anything to do with Jim Connelly? 
Oh, Joe, I can’t let you run any more such risks! 
You’re too young and you’re all I have left.” 

He was on his feet, the last of his breakfast in 
his hand. “ Don’t you worry about me for a min- 
ute,” he urged. “ Nothing can happen to me. You 
trust Mr. Mayhew and Mr. Nelson, don’t you? ” 

" Yes.” 

“ They won’t ask me to do anything I shouldn’t 
do. Whatever it is, it must be important, or Mr. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 223 

Nelson wouldn’t have telephoned. He’s Scout Com- 
missioner, you know, and he expects us Scouts to 
obey orders quickly.” 

“ And you think it’s only Scout business, Joe?” 

“ I’m sure it’s that,” he said ; “ I’ll telephone you, 
if it isn’t. But I’m sure it’s just some Scout hike, 
or something. Maybe some kid’s been lost and they 
want us to hunt it,” he added, as he grabbed for his 
cap. “ That’s happened other places. The Ken- 
dallville patrols were called out for that last year. 
I’ll telephone you anyway. Good-by.” He kissed 
her twice and started for the door. “ Bet dad finds 
a home for us within a month,” he called back cheer- 
ily. “ It will be better in Washington in the fall, 
anyway.” 

Once out of the yard, Joe began to run. He 
knew it was too early for the bank to be open, knew 
that Mr. Nelson must have something very impor- 
tant to say to have sent for him so peremptorily. 
He was certain that it must have to do with what had 
happened the previous night and it added to his 
speed. Yet, when he saw Stan Wood and Alex Cot- 


224 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


ton hurrying ahead of him, apparently answering 
calls such as his, he began to have his doubts 
about it. 

When he overtook the two, he found them as 
greatly mystified as he was himself. All they knew 
was that the Scout Commissioner had ordered them 
to report to him at once. Alex gave the added in- 
formation that Mr. Mayhew’s orders were behind 
Mr. Nelson’s. He “ supposed Harve Foster would 
show up at the bank sooner or later,” and, knowing 
Fat, was rather certain it would be later. 

The sight of Hec, sitting expectantly on the steps 
in front of the bank, told Joe that a call had been 
sent out at least for the Wolf Patrol and he knew 
he would find Tug inside. As they came to the 
door, it opened before they could touch the knob 
and Mr. Nelson waved them on toward the directors’ 
room. “ Tug and Nelse are already here,” he said. 
“ Three more are yet to come. I believe the Wolves 
will be enough. If not, I shall have to call out the 
other patrols this afternoon.” 

“ Don’t bother with them,” laughed Nelse. “ We 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 225 


can do it, only do tell us what it is. Fm busting 
with curiosity. So’s Tuggie.” 

“ So’m I,” echoed Ned. 

Mr. Nelson nodded gravely. “ I can believe it,” 
he agreed. “ Joe, I want to talk with you alone for 
a moment. You're patrol leader? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Mr. Nelson led the way back to his own desk and, 
sitting down, motioned to Joe to pull a chair close 
to his. “ You and Harvey know a great deal about 
the Stone case which we do not think it necessary 
others should know as yet,” he began. “ You two, 
and you, in particular, Joe, have been of great assist- 
ance and we are going to ask more of you. It is 
Mr. Mayhew’s suggestion, and I am particularly 
glad that he thought of calling on the Scouts — and 
I don’t think you know this, nor do I think he’d ob- 
ject to my telling you now — he hasn’t always been 
enthusiastic about our organization.” 

“ He rather hinted at that once,” said the boy, 
with a reminiscent smile, “ but I know he’s changed 
a whole lot since.” 


226 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ I’m sure of it. I imagine you’re responsible for 
it, too. But that’s aside from the matter at hand. 
The secret service people captured Mrs. Stone last 
night at the Junction.” 

“ Fine! Did they find the papers? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Then Sloan’s theory was wrong? ” 

“No. What’s more, I imagine he was giving us 
far more fact than surmise. She had the papers 
when she left Gillfield. Sloan telephoned me an 
hour ago that they’d been able to make her say 
enough to convince them of that. Between our- 
selves, I guess Mrs. Stone knows a good deal about 
an American third degree by this time. But now 
Sloan admits that he’s working solely on theory. 
If she had the papers when she left Gillfield, and 
didn’t have them when she reached the Junction, 
she either gave them to some one on the train, or 
threw them off.” 

“ Couldn’t she have mailed ’em? ” suggested Joe. 
“ They’ve those letter boxes at ’most every little 
station.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 227 

“ You may take it for granted that they’re not in 
the mail,” stated Mr. Nelson, with a wise smile. 
“ Sloan is quite positive that there was no confed- 
erate on the train. She did not have time to send 
for help. But something must have happened to 
make her suspicious. Sloan’s convinced that she be- 
came frightened and threw the papers off the train, 
either intending to lose them permanently, or else to 
come back later and recover them. It’s for that 
I’ve called out the Wolves. We want you to find 
that package.” 

“Of course we’ll try, sir, but it will be like try- 
ing to find a needle in a haystack. It’s thirty-five 
miles to the Junction and it would take us weeks to 
do a thorough job.” 

“ I know that. But I’m not asking the impos- 
sible. Neither’s Sloan. He’s a pretty thorough 
sort of chap — Sloan. Imagine that whole train 
crew think so. He knows that Mrs. Stone opened 
the window she sat by just before the train reached 
the river bridge beyond Blodgett’s Crossing. He 
says she wouldn’t throw anything out immediately. 


228 THE BOY SCOUTS 

A woman hesitates where a man wouldn’t. He be- 
lieves she tried to throw the package into the river, 
or into the thick underbrush — if she wanted to 
recover it. And he believes she does. She was on 
the south side of the car. He is sure you can find 
what he wants on one side of the bridge or the other. 
He thinks this side. Will you boys hunt for it? ” 

“ We’ll try.” 

“ I took that for granted. But, Joe,” he went on 
earnestly, “ neither Sloan, nor any of us here, want 
it known what you’re after. Would it be possible 
to fix it up with the Wolves so that they’ll believe 
they’re hunting for something the bank has lost ? ” 

“ They won't care what they’re hunting. The 
Wolves do as they’re ordered and ask no questions. 
Can you tell me what the package, or papers, or 
whatever it is, looks like? ” 

“ No,” he admitted, “ I can’t. That’s the hard 
part of it.” 

“ Whew ! ” The exclamation was barely audible 
and, for a moment, the boy sat with his face be- 
tween his hands, elbows on knees and eyes fixed on 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 229 

the floor. He weighed the chances for success and 
the balance of the scales were all against him. The 
Wolves were game, they would try anything. But 
now they were faced with the impossible. He knew 
it was not only the Scout Commissioner who was 
asking this of them, not only Mr. Mayhew, on whom 
so much future joy depended, but their country. 
This request was from the secret service. He would 
do better than his best, but he wanted a fighting 
chance. 

Slowly he raised his eyes to find those of Mr. 
Nelson watching him anxiously. “ You’re asking 
me to tell them to find something,” he said slowly, 
“ and you won’t let me tell them what it is.” 

“ Papers.” 

“ I know,” he went on. “ I’m just sorter think- 
ing out loud, I reckon. If the bank lost it, it must 
be in a bank envelope, or wrapper. Wouldn’t it 
be ? ” he demanded, in an entirely different voice. 

“ I don’t know, Joe.” 

“ The Stones are too clever to keep anything in a 
German package,” stated the boy. “ You think the 


230 THE BOY SCOUTS 

stuff’s been kept here. Couldn’t they have gotten 
big envelopes from the bank? ” 

“ Certainly. There are always some on the desks 
outside the vault.” 

“ May I have one of each. I’ll bet she used one 
of ’em.” 

“ What makes you think so? ” 

“ Don’t know, just do. I’m sure of it.” 

“ Aren’t you theorizing just a little? ” Mr. Nelson 
suggested warningly. 

“ Maybe,” he admitted. “ But, somehow or 
other, both Stones have done just what we’ve ex- 
pected them to do everytime they’ve done anything. 
Maybe that’s just the Hun way of always doing 
things.” 

“ You’re right,” declared Mr. Nelson emphatic- 
ally. “ The Hun has done the obvious thing from 
the very beginning. Anyway,” he finished more 
cautiously, “ it’s a working start. Here comes 
Harvey and the other two. I’ll let them in ; you get 
your envelopes to show them ; I’ll meet you all in the 
directors’ room. But you’re to talk; you command 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 231 


the Patrol. We’re going down to Blodgett’s by 
motor. I’m going with you.” 

“ Very good, sir.” Joe, too, rose and hurried to- 
ward the writing table at the side of the closed vault. 
Ten minutes more and he had explained what he 
wished to the Patrol. They were to find an envel- 
ope like one of the half dozen he had shown them, 
they were to pick up any pieces of paper with writ- 
ing on them, they were to take anything of the sort 
they discovered to Mr. Nelson at once and they 
were to ask no question, because that was his com- 
mand. 

“ Fine and dandy ! ” snorted Fat. “ Invitation to 
play hunt-the-thimble in the wilderness. I’m game, 
all right, all right; so’s the rest of the bunch. We’ll 
play puss-in-the-corner or ring-around-the-rosy till 
the cows come home, but this business of not know- 
ing the reason for the party is putting us to some lit- 
tle test, believe you me ! Some little test ! ” 

“You can meet it, can’t you, Harve?” Joe’s 
eyes twinkled. 

“ Can, if I don’t bust with curiosity,” came the 


232 THE BOY SCOUTS 

instantaneous answer, as Mr. Foster started for the 
door and two of the waiting Mayhew motors. “ Hi, 
Tug! Are you aiming to take Hec, the Blood- 
hound, along? ” 

“ I’d like to,” the little fellow answered, stoop- 
ing to scratch his pet’s yellow ear. 

“ Better,” chuckled Fat. “ Maybe it was Little 
Eva or Uncle Tom who lost them poipers. I feel 
like the hero in the fourth reel already. If that’s 
lunch you’ve got in that box, Mr. Nelson, don’t put 
it in the car with me. Where’s Joe? ” 

“ Saw him at the telephone as we came out,” vol- 
unteered Nelse. “ Oh, here he comes. Get a move, 
you old land crab, and quit trying to look wise! 
Don’t pretend that you know what’s up any more 
than we do.” 

Joe waved a hand as he climbed into the other 
car and took his seat at Mr. Nelson’s side. “ Just 
wanted to tell mother I wouldn’t be home for 1 
lunch,” he explained. “ Sorry, if I’ve kept you 
waiting. Hi, Tug, put some goggles on Hec! 
We’re going to make time.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 233 


“ What Hec needs is a muzzle,” called Harvey. 
“ He’s after the lunch already.” 

“ Fat’s jealous,” announced Stan. “ Here we 
go! This is the real way to make a hike. Three 
cheers for Mr. Nelson! ” 

The banker smiled his encouragement. It was 
well to have them in such spirits. He felt they 
would need all the cheerfulness they could muster 
before the day was over. In fact, when Sloan’s tel- 
ephone message had routed him out of bed that 
morning, he had been able to see small chance for 
results in the operative’s request. But it had not 
taken long to convince him that any chance was 
worth taking and taking at once. 

The ride through the pleasant country-side proved 
Joe had been right when he promised that the Patrol 
would not ask questions. They had not time to do 
anything but thoroughly enjoy themselves. As Ned 
said, it started out like a real party and, so far as 
he was concerned, he didn’t care what they asked 
him to do so long as Mr. Nelson continued to pro- 
vide such fun. And Mr. Nelson, entering into their 


234 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


spirit, insisted in stopping at Blodgett’s one store 
and buying a case of soda, as an added part of the 
treat. 

A mile further, and they turned off the main road 
and wound down through the woods toward the 
single railroad track. “ Some one’s ahead of us,” 
called Nelse, from the front seat of the leading car. 
“ I can see tracks of wheels. It’s a carriage.” 

“ He’s trying to show off his woodcraft,” chuckled 
Alex. “ He’ll be wig-wagging next.” 

“ Not Nelse,” retorted Joe, with a laugh. “ He 
never could remember the code. But he’s right, for 
once; some one else has been here.” 

“ Turn the bloodhound loose on his trail,” sug- 
gested Fat. “ Knew we’d brought that pup for 
some reason.” 

Mr. Nelson alone appeared to take Nelse’s dis- 
covery seriously. Joe saw the frown on his face. 

“ Think some one’s beaten us to it? ” he asked. 

“ Don’t know. It may be Sloan sent some one 
up from the Junction. We’ll learn in a minute. 
If Nelse can read wig-wagging,” he said suddenly, 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 235 

“ send him a message to slow down. We’ll get out 
here quietly.” 

Joe’s whistle was out of his pocket in a flash and 
one low call made the boys in the other car look 
back. Even before he could stand up, Nelse had 
told the chauffeur to stop, that something was 
wanted of them. The next instant he came racing 
back. 

“ What’s up ? ” he demanded as he reached the 
side of their car. 

“We get out here,” stated Mr. Nelson. “Joe 
was going to wigwag it to you.” 

“ Knew I’d save time by coming back,” observed 
the boy. “ It would take him all day to get a mes- 
sage out of his system.” 

“ It would — if I had to make you understand 
it,” agreed Joe, good-naturedly. “Everybody out! 
Hurry up! Mr. Nelson, we’re ready to follow 
you.” 

“ All but Hec,” said Stan. “ He’s got the idea 
there’s a rabbit loose here or hereabouts. Look 
at him ! ” 


236 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“Come here, Hec!” Tug commanded. “You 
stay with me.” 

“Better let him stay with Fat,” offered Alex; 
“ then he won’t get all tired out.” 

“ You quit trying to pick on me and begin to ‘ but- 
ton-button-who’s-got-the-button ? ’ ” suggested Har- 
vey. “ Shall I take the soda along, sir? ” 

“ You’re going to take about half of it, whatever 
he answers,” retorted the unsympathetic Alex. 
“ Who’s going to walk with me ? ” 

“ You’re all going to wait a minute,” retorted 
Mr. Nelson. “ I want to talk with Joe.” He led 
him off to one side and the boys saw their leader 
nod his comprehension as the Scout Commissioner 
spoke earnestly. After a minute, the boy returned. 

“ These wheel tracks,” he began, “ may not be 
such a joke as we thought they were. Mr. Nelson 
wants us to advance quietly. Nelse and I will go 
ahead and see if we can find where they lead to. 
Give us five minutes. If I don’t whistle for you 
before then, head down for the next turn of the 
road and then strike through the woods for the rail- 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 237 


road and wait there till I come. All ready, Nelse? ” 

“ Surer 

“ Keep Hec quiet, Tug. Come ahead.” 

The two started down the road at a fast walk. 
The wagon tracks were plain and certainly only a 
few hours old, so it was not difficult to follow them. 
But within a second hundred yards, the sand gave 
way to grass and the trail became difficult to find. 
They checked their pace to a slow walk. At a fork 
of a wood road, the trail vanished completely. It 
was utterly impossible to tell which way the team 
had gone. 

“ We’d better split,” suggested Nelse. “ I’ll take 
this road, you. follow that. If either of us strike 
any sign, he’ll give the patrol call for the other.” 

Joe thought for a moment. “ Don’t believe it’s 
worth it,” he said. “We came out for something 
else. We’ll report to Mr. Nelson first, then, if he 
wants us to follow your scheme, we can come back.” 

“ All right,” agreed the other. “ Guess that’s the 
best thing. Probably only some farmer driving 
down to a swamp meadow somewhere ahead, any- 


238 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


way. These woods are full of little meadows. 
How do we hit the track from here? ” 

Joe nodded toward the right-hand road. “ This 
ought to take us somewhere near it,” he said. 
“ Anyway, it’s easier to follow it for a way than to 
hit through the woods.” 

“ You’re boss. Let’s go!” 

“ All right, come along.” 

It was a longer walk than they had expected and, 
though the road finally crossed the tracks, it was at 
some distance from the bridge. They hurried 
down the ties, knowing that the others would be 
impatient at the wak. Yet, when they reached the 
bridge, Mr. Nelson was sitting on the bank alone. 
“ Didn’t think you’d object to my starting them be- 
fore you arrived,” he said. “ We may need all our 
time. Find anything? ” 

“ Forked road and no trail,” Joe replied tersely. 
“ Glad you put the rest to work, sir. Did you 
save a place for us ? ” 

“ I surely did. Down here in the undergrowth 
by the edge of the river. It’s the worst of the lot, 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 239 

and you’ll have to work it thoroughly and very care- 
fully.” 

# 

“For what?” Nelse could control his curiosity 
no longer. It seemed high time that a few things 
be explained. 

In a few words Mr. Nelson told him enough to 
promise a busy morning ahead for him. He also 
showed him a set of envelopes, such as Joe had in his 
pocket. “If you can find one like any of these,” 
he finished, “ every one will be more than satisfied. 
But, if you discover any torn bits of paper with 
writing on them, bring them to me.” 

“Where are the others?” Joe asked, as he was 
about to plunge down the bank and into the tangle 
of alders by the river. 

“ Harve and Alex are searching up the track. 
You must have passed near them as you came down. 
Ned and Stan are just across the bridge. Tug and 
Nick are down the track. That makes four on each 
side of the river. I think I’ll look along both down- 
stream banks myself. It may have fallen in the 
water and floated down.” 


240 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Small chance,” confessed the boy. “ It would 
sink, if there were many papers in it. ,, 

“ Know that. But I’d throw for the water, if I’d 
been trying to destroy anything.” 

“ You would,” grinned Joe, “ but you didn’t do 
this. I’ll fish it out of this tangle in ten minutes.” 
He waved a hand and slid down the bank to the 
edge of the stream. “ You work back till you bump 
into Harve or Alex, Nelse,” he ordered; “ I’ll take 
care of this place.” 

“ Get you!” agreed Nelse, and began to weave 
back and forth, his eyes on the ground, the stiff 
branches snapping and slapping into his set face. 

Yet, if any of the boys found excitement in the 
beginning of the search, it wore off by the end of 
the first unsuccessful hour, becoming a hard, hot 
grind and the only thing which kept them at it was 
the united resolve that the Wolves must not fail. 
From time to time, one or two returned to Mr. 
Nelson at the bridge in hope of new instructions, 
only to find him growing more and more sober of 
face and quieter in manner. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 241 

Joe was convinced that nothing could have fallen 
in his assigned territory which could have been over- 
looked in the minuteness of his hunt. Nelse was 
equally sure; so were Ned and Stan, who had the 
corresponding territory across the river. At last 
Mr. Nelson was forced to admit they must be right 
and to agree to Joe’s suggestion that they move 
further down the track. The man was sure that 
there was little use in extending the hunt further 
to the east. 

Of them all, little Tug was more nearly enjoying 
the hunt. Not having the remotest idea what he 
was after, except that it was probably a brown en- 
velope which contained something which was none 
of his business and, therefore, of no interest to him, 
he was keeping busy by allowing his always vivid 
imagination free rein. It was the key to a hidden 
treasure that was lost, he told himself, and, if he 
could only find it, his share in the division prob- 
ably would not only give him enough to buy Hec a 
new collar, but might even make possible the long- 
dreamed-of bicycle. Any lad with such dreams 


242 THE BOY SCOUTS 

could find no cause for complaint because he was 
very hot, or because the flies and mosquitoes were 
making him the actual field for a Roman holiday in 
insectdom. 

It was swampy, too, where he was searching. 
Thick clumps of brush grew close to the tracks, mak- 
ing little islands in a muddy, sedgy sea. The place 
was not at all to Nick’s liking and he was only too 
glad to move on down the track and take up new 
ground. But Tug was not yet satisfied that all 
the ground-and-water had been covered systemat- 
ically. Also Hec, having captured two frogs, one 
small snake and discovered a mud turtle, was find- 
ing the place decidedly agreeable and was, appar- 
ently, in no hurry to seek new field of endeavor. 

The rest of the boys treated Tug’s desire to re- 
main behind merely as another illustration of the 
little fellow’s putterings, and any one of them would 
have gone a long way rather than hurt his feelings 
by telling him they were sure he was only wasting 
time. And, besides, Joe was not the only one who 
knew that Nick might have been a trifle superficial 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 243 

in his part of the search. For, if Tug was thorough 
in all he did, Nick was equally prone to stroll the 
easiest way. 

“ When you find anything, trot down the track 
with it until you find us,” Joe called, as he went past. 

“ I’ll be there with something worth while before 
you know it,” promised the little fellow, straighten- 
ing up and mopping his red face. “ This swamp 
grass is awful’y thick, Joey.” 

‘‘Sure is!” Joe waved a friendly hand. 
“ Don’t stay till you get lonesome,” he advised. 

But, with Hec for company and a treasure hunt 
in hand, there was no danger of such a thing hap- 
pening to Tug. Joyously he splashed his way back 
and forth, and Hec, the faithful, whoofed and 
splashed all round him. 

Half an hour more, and he had convinced him- 
self that the missing envelope was not in the terri- 
tory which had been assigned him. In his method- 
ical way, he had covered every inch of the ground 
and investigated every pool. It was growing hot- 
ter, too, and the black flies were biting him viciously. 


244 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


For a moment, he looked longingly at the shady bank 
below the track. He was almost sure neither Joe 
nor Mr. Nelson would mind if he stopped a few 
minutes and sat there to rest before going on to 
join the others. 

The fact that he had been unsuccessful, hurt. 
From his first splash into the swamp, he had prom- 
ised himself he would be the one to bring much 
honor to the Wolves. Here, at last, he was on an 
equal footing with the larger boys, for it was all a 
question of eyesight. That persistence might also 
enter into the reckoning, did not occur to him. 

But, as he started for the embankment, a new and 
driving thought came to him. Unless this envelope 
thing were very important, Mr. Nelson would never 
have left the bank for a whole day. If a man was 
eager to devote his time to the search, a boy, and 
especially a Boy Scout, had no right to loaf. He 
turned southward to join the Patrol and be assigned 
to a new field, but, in spite of the fact that his feet 
dragged and his head and back ached, he stuck to 
the swamp. Certainly it would not be disloyal to 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 245 

Nick if he walked over the places where he had said 
there was nothing. 

Yet, before he had gone twenty yards, his little 
mind began to be very troubled. Loyalty to Nick 
was now uppermost in his thoughts and an anxious, 
worried frown puckered his usually smooth fore- 
head. He had discovered two thick clumps of 
swamp grass about which there were no signs of 
foot prints, no traces of Nick’s investigations. His 
friend had evidently been content to make only a 
very careless search. Tug drew a long, slow breath, 
and, once more, began to weave back and forth. If 
one boy had failed, the honor of the Wolves was in 
his, Tug’s, keeping and he must protect it in spite 
of the lure of that shady bank. 

Another twenty yards and he began to have real 
sympathy for Nick. The swamp edged closer to the 
bank and it was thick and sticky. Ahead, he saw 
a small clump of low trees, a swamp maple rising 
above them like a sentinel. He knew enough about 
woodcraft to know it meant firmer ground there, so 
headed for it. 


246 THE BOY SCOUTS 

A little further, and he sank to his knees in black, 
greasy ooze. The insects were in swarms now. 
The sun beat hot upon him. Nick had apparently 
fought through, for Tug saw grass bent down into 
the water and footmarks on the occasional hum- 
mocks. Then came a small and beaten circle. It 
told its own story. Nick, the careless and comfort- 
loving, had come so far but no further. The trail 
was plain along which the slacker had plunged for 
the railroad track and good walking. 

But, of all places which invited search, that which 
lay ahead promised best. Tug did not know how 
deep the muck was, but he knew he must go through. 
He was a Wolf. The honor of another Wolf lay in 
his hands. Staggering, sinking, slipping, flounder- 
ing, the little chap fought gamely toward that ma- 
ple, but never once did he take his eyes from the 
ground around him. 

Then, of a sudden, he saw something which made 
him cry aloud. To his left, and not ten feet from 
the edge of the railroad bank, lay a wet, brown ob- 
ject. He made a lunge for it, slipped, fell with a 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 247 

splash, but wiggled on till his hand clutched it. It 
was an envelope like one of those which Mr. Nelson 
had told him to find. He had succeeded when the 
rest had failed — he, Tug, the youngest of all the 
Wolves. 

It never occurred to him to open the dripping, 
soggy thing as he plowed toward dry ground. He 
had been ordered to find the envelope and then to 
take it to Mr. Nelson. The thing to do now was to 
find Mr. Nelson. Tired as he was, he knew he 
would run down the track as he had never run be- 
fore. 

As he reached the bank, he tried to whistle for the 
distant Hec. His lips were too dry. He called 
huskily. Then, as if it were an echo, came a voice, 
low, stern and gruff, from out of the heart of the 
thicket before the lone maple. “ Shut up ! ” it 
commanded hoarsely. “ Stand still ! I want that 
thing.” 

Like a flash, memory of those wagon tracks Joe 
had followed came to him. The some one who 
wanted the envelope was a real some one and that 


248 THE BOY SCOUTS 

some one was plunging through the swamp toward 
him. 

For a second, he stood motionless. Through the 
swamp, a man came leaping toward him, a man 
who, to the little chap, looked as big as a giant 
and as ugly as a thunderstorm. There was no mis- 
taking the expression on the square face, no doubt as 
to the intent which gleamed in the black, close-set 
eyes. He meant to have that envelope at any price. 
And the price looked very small. 

He came on. There seemed to be less need for 
haste now. Tug stood like a bird fascinated by a 
snake. The man saw that he was too frightened to 
stir. A wicked, triumphant grin spread over his 
face. “ Saved me hunting, didn’t you ? Good boy ! 
Hold it! I’ll take it in a second.” 

“ No you won’t! ” It was almost a scream, but 
Tug had been brought back to life. His feet were 
like lead, and his knees like jelly, but he made 
a break down the track. “ Hec ! ” he called. 
" Hec!” 

He heard a final splash, heard stones slip and 



u 




HE MADE A BREAK DOWN THE TRACK 


















































\ 








OF THE WOLF PATROL 249 


clatter as the man won the track, then the pound 
of big feet as they took up the pursuit. If he only 
knew how far ahead Mr. Nelson and the rest were! 
If he could only reach them in time to give the tight- 
clutched envelope into safe hands! 

The man was gaining rapidly. Tug’s short legs 
tried to lengthen their stride, but the fight against 
the swamp had made him very tired. He could see 
no help ahead. The track ran straight for at least 
two hundred yards. He knew he had no chance. 
Every second he expected a heavy hand to fall on 
his shoulder, or a heavy fist to send him spinning 
down into the swamp. He wanted Joe Lowell, he 
wanted Nelse, he wanted Harve, but, most of all, he 
wanted faithful, flea-bitten, yellow, old Hec. Al- 
though he had about as little breath as he had hope, 
he called the dog again and again, his voice ringing 
with terror. 

And, from up that track, was coming forty pounds 
of real friendship. Neck thrust out, scarred ears 
close to the narrow head, feet seeming barely to touch 
rough gravel and ties, white teeth bared, rushed 


250 THE BOY SCOUTS 

Hec, every drop of his Irish blood driving him on. 
He came like a yellow streak of sunlight and, as he 
came, his stride lengthened, then shortened sud- 
denly, as the soft pads found their take-off. The 
lean jaws opened, the wiry body lunged. There 
was a yell, a crash and Hec tore free from that 
wildly waving leg on which he had swung all his 
weight to make that tripping, whirlwind fall. 

From the yell of rage and pain, Tug knew some- 
thing had happened behind him, but, now that the 
beat of the pursuing feet had stopped, he dared not 
waste time to look around. He heard a new sound, 
a scurry of the quick feet he knew so well, then 
Hec danced ahead, yelping, as if to encourage him. 
But only for a moment. Then Hec slid to a stop, 
whirled even as he slid, and, with a low growl, 
planted himself solidly in the center of the track, 
every hair on end as a sign of welcome to any future 
trouble which might follow his master. 

The little fellow knew and understood. “ Good 
old Hecy ! ” he half sobbed as he stumbled on. 

The curve came at last. He saw Mr. Nelson pac- 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 251 


ing back and forth, his hands behind his back, his 
head bowed. “ I’ve got it!” he shrilled. “ I’ve 
got it! Some one’s chasing me.” 

Staggering as he came up to the man, he held out 
the wet and dirty envelope, but it was the boy which 
Mr. Nelson grabbed. “ What is it? ” he demanded. 
“ Who’s chasing you ? ” 

“ Back there! ” Tug was so frightened he could 
hardly speak. “ He was watching in the bushes. 
He told me to stand still. He wanted my envelope. 
Then he chased me ail’ Hec bit him an’ — an’ — an’ 
everything.” 

“Joe! Nelse! All of you!” Mr. Nelson’s 
voice rang out the rallying call in no uncertain tone. 
Anxiety, suspicion and imagination told him far 
more than Tug’s broken sentences. If any des- 
perate game was to be played, he did not wish any 
of these boys to be left in a position where he would 
have to play a lone hand. There had been enough 
of that. He, too, had linked those wagon tracks 
with the almost successful attack on Tug, but he 
knew far more about its probable cause, and the 


252 THE BOY SCOUTS 

grim determination of the man, or men, to drive it 
home, than any of the boys, even Joe or Harve, 
guessed. Sure that he held in his hand the thing 
that Sloan so wanted, his one idea was to get out of 
the place as quickly, and as safely, as possible. 

As the Wolves rallied to his call, he took one 
peep into the envelope. What he saw made a grim- 
mer light come into his eyes and he put the wet 
mass into his inner pocket and buttoned his coat 
tightly over it. “ You’ve done fine work,” he said, 
“ fine!” 

It was Joe and Alex who had come up first. Be- 
fore they could be told half the story the rest of the 
Wolves were asking questions. Harve Foster 
added two and two and made four faster than he 
had ever done a sum in his life. Memory of his ac- 
tions that night when Jim Connelly had been struck 
down, still rankled deep. He saw his chance to wipe 
off what he would always consider a blot on his rec- 
ord. “If there’s a man up there, we want to know 
more about him,” he said. “Come on!” He 
started up the track. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 253 

Joe was at his side in a flash. “ Sure do! ” he 
stated. “ We’ve enough here to tackle him.” 

“ Be sane, Joe ! ” commanded Mr. Nelson sharply. 
“ You know enough about this to know what the 
risks would be.” 

“ I’m not thinking of that, sir.” 

“ I am. There’s going to be no murder, if I 
can help it. You boys wouldn’t have a chance. 
This is a man’s job, and a man’s job for specially 
trained men. What we want to do, is to get in 
touch with those men as quickly as possible. We’re 
dealing with an organized gang. Can’t you see 
that?” 

“ I’m beginning to think so,” the boy admitted. 

“ They’re after what Tug found, and what I’ve 
got in my pocket. No price is too high for them 
to pay for it. They were searching, as well as we. 
I suspected it when I saw those tracks. We want 
to get back to Gillfield. If there’s only one man, 
we can do it; if there’re more, we can find trouble 
without hunting for it.” 

Nelse started to ask a question but checked him- 


254 THE BOY SCOUTS 

self in time and leaned over to pat the panting Hec. 
As curious as he was, he remembered Joe’s orders. 
It was Tug who found voice. “ Let’s go,” he said; 
“ let’s go quick. Gillfield will look awful good to 
me! ” 


CHAPTER XI 


OUR COUNTRY FIRST 

Tug was by no means the only one to whom Gill- 
field “ looked good ” that noon. Mr. Nelson, 
pleased beyond words over the success of what had 
seemed to him scarcely more than a waste of effort, 
had all he could do' not to tell these loyal, closed- 
mouthed boys the full story. As for his feelings 
toward little Tug, they were a mixture of thank- 
fulness over his being alive and gratitude for what, 
with true New England ability to coin a word, he 
called his “ sticktoitiveness.” 

As it was, he was forced to keep silent and, when 
they finally drew up before the bank, he dismissed 
the Patrol with a promise that they should hear from 
him within the very near future. Joe Lowell, how- 
ever, was told to remain. “ You’ve all been of such 
help,” explained Mr. Nelson, “ that I don’t believe 
255 


256 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


I could get along the rest of the day without one 
Wolf on hand. I may need a messenger and if 
you could — ” 

“ Not only can, but mighty glad to,” the boy de- 
clared promptly. 

“ One thing more,” Mr. Nelson announced, just 
as the group was about to separate. “ It’s been 
some time since I have attended a meeting of your 
Patrol. I don’t want to do it as your Commissioner 
just now, but I do want to have a sort of reunion 
with you all. To-morrow night Mrs. Nelson and 
I would be very pleased if the Wolves would take 
supper with us at our home. The hour is six-thirty. 
I’ll try to provide a little better entertainment than 
I did to-day.” 

There was an answering yell of delight. It was 
hardly the approved way of accepting a social invita- 
tion, but it told Mr. Nelson he was assured of guests. 
It also conveyed the information that they looked on 
him more as a friend than as a guiding spirit and he 
was decidedly pleased. “ I’ll try to tell you the 
whole story of to-day then,” he promised. “ I’m 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 257 


going to ask you all to refuse to answer any ques- 
tions until then, though.” 

“We won’t.” 

“ You can trust the Wolves.” 

“ Can’t tell what we don’t know.” 

“ But you can bet a dish of stewed prunes against 
a million dollars that we want to know,” declared 
Nelse. “ It’s a long time till to-morrow night.” 

The man joined in the laughter, waved a pleased 
good-by and disappeared into the bank, Joe close at 
his heels. Hardly had he reached his desk, how- 
ever, before he had taken up his telephone. Within 
five minutes he had been connected with Sloan at the 
Junction, had told him of Tug’s success and been in- 
formed that Sloan would be in Gillfield as soon as a 
motor could get him there. 

As he hung up, he turned to the boy. “ It will 
be an hour, at least, before he arrives,” he said. 
“You’ve been such a help to us all, Joe, that I don’t 
believe they’ll have any objection to your hearing 
the unraveling of what’s left to untangle in the Stone 
affair. That’s why I told you to stay.” 


258 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Thanks ! I don’t know how I can thank you. 
But do you suppose we’ve got everything now? Is 
it all in that envelope? ” 

“ Best way to find out is to look,” declared the 
man, with a happy little laugh. “ Come into the 
directors’ room.” 

Joe could hardly keep from running there. Mr. 
Nelson closed the door behind them, sat down at the 
long table and nodded to the boy to pull a chair close 
to his side. Then, with much care, he drew the 
close-folded sheets of thin paper from the muddy en- 
velope. As he opened the damp mess, he saw that 
the ink had blurred in many places. “ Before we do 
anything,” he stated, “ we must dry these mighty 
carefully.” 

“ Here are some blotters.” Jo'e pushed forward 
two big ones. 

“ Not that way. We might do just what they 
want done — blur it so badly we could read noth- 
ing. We’ll have to do it very slowly and carefully. 
Go and tell one of the clerks to bring two desk 
lamps here.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 259 

He obeyed, wondering. But a few minutes later 
the lamps had been connected with wall sockets and 
Mr. Nelson was showing him haw to iron a sheet 
dry by rubbing a lighted incandescent globe gently 
over its reverse side. 

It was slow work but successful. When the last 
sheet had been smoothed out, Mr. Nelson gathered 
them into a pile once more, “ I think we’ve got 
what we want,” he said, thumbing the papers care- 
fully. “ Now I wish I had learned to read German 
when in school.” 

“ I’m curious, all right, all right,” grinned the boy, 
“ but I’m not curious enough to wish that for either 
of us. Never could see the sense of learning a dead 
language.” 

“ There’s something in that, too,” chuckled the 
man. “ Probably most of it’s in code, anyway. 
We’ll have to wait.” 

“ Can I see it, sir? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

Joe reached eagerly for the sheets. They were 
closely written, and he supposed that the queer-look- 


260 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


ing letters were the German script. Also there were 
many numbers. “ I guess it’s code,” he said. 
“ But, look here, sir, these sheet numbers are plain 
enough. Look - — one — three — five — seven.” He 
turned them rapidly, pointing to the figures in the 
upper left-hand corner of each. “ We’ve only got 
half of the original.” 

“ You’re right,” admitted Mr. Nelson, making an 
effort to hide his disappointment. “ I guess that’s 
right. Stone must have the other half.” 

“ And where’s Stone? ” 

“ I only wish I knew,” he sighed. “ It looks as 
if we’d only gotten half way, after all.” 

“ But half way’s a heap further than we’d gotten 
before,” was the stout reply. “ I wish you had let 
us take a chance for that man who chased poor old 
Tug.” 

“ I didn’t dare.” 

“ The fact that he didn’t follow Tug showed he 
was alone, sir. If there’d been two of ’em they 
wouldn’t have been afraid to tackle us.” 

“ I thought of that, Joe. It may mean a longer 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 261 


hunt, but I believe I did the right thing in coming 
home at once.” 

The boy was so ready to run any risk, now that 
he believed their goal was in sight, that he could not 
agree with the saner policy which the man had 
chosen to adopt, yet his loyalty to him, as head of 
the Scouts, kept him from any attempt to argue over 
a thing already done. He sat staring at the closely 
written pages on the table before him, but his eyes 
did not see either words or figures, for his mind was 
busy trying to link what they might contain with the 
things which Henry Stone and his wife had done. 

What puzzled him most was how, if the woman 
had deliberately thrown the envelope from the train 
at a certain spot, she had succeeded in telling some 
confederate of the act, and, further, how she could 
have told him, or them, where to search for the thing. 
If she had done this, Sloan must have been caught 
off his guard and, from what he had seen of Sloan, 
he did not believe there was great probability of 
that. 

He was trying hard to think how it could have 


262 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


happened, when the door opened quietly and Sloan 
himself walked in. If Joe had expected him to ap- 
pear excited, he was greatly disappointed. The 
only outward sign was a contented smile. “ Things 
seem to be working out well,” he said, then, with a 
nod to Joe, “ I’ m thinking of joining the Boy Scouts. 
It seems to get you where you want to get in a way 
that makes my head swim. Fine work, youngster! 
It’s becoming a habit with you.” 

“ Here are your papers,” said Mr. Nelson, push- 
ing them across the table to him ; “ but I’m afraid 
you’re rejoicing a bit prematurely. Evidently only 
half of the original is here.” 

“ Half’s a whole lot more than I’d any excuse to 
expect,” was the quick reply. “ With half here, it’s 
a cinch where the other half is. They didn’t have 
time to split more. What I can’t understand, 
though, is why Stone didn’t burn the stuff. No one 
but a Hun would have been chump enough to save 
the rope to hang himself with.” 

“ Know where he is ? ” 

“ No. Got any ideas? ” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 263 


“ None.” 

“ I have.” 

“ What!” 

Sloan smiled. “ Told you last night I was 
through theorizing,” he said, with a smile. “ From 
now on, I produce instead of prophesy. Made any- 
thing out of this stuff yet? ” He tapped the papers 
with his hand. 

“ No. Can’t read them. What are you doing 
about the man who tried to get these away from 
young Wilson? ” 

“ Nothing.” 

“What!” Mr. Nelson’s voice plainly showed 
his astonishment. 

“ I’ve said it.” 

“ But — ” He wet his lips and a deep frown of 
disapproval appeared on his forehead. “ But you’ve 
a definite clew, man,” he declared. “ There’s not 
a doubt in the world about his being a confederate. 
He was sent out there to recover these papers. He 
was told they were thrown from the train and fell, 
not where we thought, but a quarter mile beyond the 


264 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


river near a tree which rises out of a swamp. It’s 
too evident ! ” 

“ Who told him where to find ’em? ” 

“ Mrs. Stone, of course.” 

Sloan grinned. “ Guess again,” he advised. 
“ Mrs. Stone’s been in very select company since she 
stepped from that train at the Junction. She hasn’t 
been telling fairy stories to any one but me and my 
men. She’s a mighty poor talker, too,” he added. 
“ Injured innocence is a very pretty role for a 
woman. But don’t }^ou fool yourself about any 
leaks there. It was much nearer home for you.” 

“ What do you mean? ” The demand was sharp. 

“ I’m not ready to tell you quite yet. I don’t 
want to make a false move, and I certainly don’t 
want to injure a really innocent person by making a 
false charge.” 

“ But you’ve another clew ? ” 

“ I wouldn’t be afraid to put it at least as strong 
as that,” admitted Sloan. “ Did the kid get a good 
look at that thug? ” he asked, turning to Joe. 

“ Guess he’ll never forget him,” stated the boy. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 265 

“ I wouldn’t, had I been in his place. Tug said he 
was about Mr. Nelson’s height, square shouldered, 
heavily built, black hair, square nose and jaw and 
pig eyes. Then — ” 

“ That’s good enough,” put in Sloan. “ I know 
him. But you won’t see him here again. He’s 
gone to earth ; knows he’s marked.” 

“ Aren’t you going to look for him?” It was 
Joe’s turn to show surprise now. 

Sloan shook his head, but his eyes twinkled. 
“ Hear you saw a little play staged once,” he said; 
“ maybe I’ll ask you to see another. But it won’t 
have the same sort of ending — unless I miss my 
guess.” 

“ Sloan,” said Mr. Nelson, soberly, “ if I didn’t 
know all about you, I’d think you’d gone suddenly 
crazy. You’ve got the key to the whole plot here 
and are not even showing an interest in these papers. 
I think you ought to have them translated at once. 
I’m going to venture to give you advice and suggest 
that you do so. This thing is rather vital to us here 
in Gillfield, at least.” 


266 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ And it's far more vital to our country, Mr. Nel- 
son,” agreed Sloan. “ I’m always ready to accept 
either advice or suggestions. Certainly the last 
thing I wish, or intend, to do, is to differ with you 
in any way, or over any detail. We’re both working 
for the same end; our methods of approach are dif- 
ferent, that’s all. Don’t think I’m slighting any- 
thing. If I seem to, I’m doing it for reasons which 
seem good and sufficient to me and for which I will 
be entirely responsible.” 

“ I beg your pardon,” said Mr. Nelson, rather 
stiffly. “ Is there anything further I can do for you, 
sir?” 

Sloan looked at him queerly for a second, then 
-shrugged his shoulders. “ Not just now,” he re- 
torted evenly. “We all thank you for what you did 
this morning. May I take these ? ” He picked up 
the papers and started for the door. 

“ Certainly,” Mr. Nelson agreed as he rose to fol- 
low him out into the bank. 

“Can I have Joe this afternoon?” He glanced 
at the lad. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 267 


“ You sure can! ” exclaimed the boy, delighted at 
the idea. 

“Good!” Sloan stopped half way through the 
banking room. “ If you want me for anything, 
Mr. Nelson,” he said, “ I’ll — ” He stopped and 
looked first around at the four clerks who were 
watching him from behind the counters and then at 
the papers in his hand. “ You trust every one here, 
of course? ” 

“ Naturally, sir.” 

“ That’s a foolish question,” stated Sloan, as if 
disgusted with his own inquiry. “ I was only go- 
ing to ease your fears by saying that I’ll take these 
papers over to my room at the inn where I can be 
alone and will keep them there until I can translate 
them. They’ll be perfectly safe.” 

The announcement was, seemingly, so careless that 
Joe was at a loss to see any reason for the formali- 
ties which preceded it. Yet he had come to look 
for a reason in everything. He glanced about the 
bank. The four behind the counters were watching 
Sloan with unconcealed interest, but it was the ex- 


268 THE BOY SCOUTS 

pression on young Dick Hunt’s face which held his 
attention. There was a queer, wild look in the lad’s 
eyes which caused Joe to glance at him a second time, 
only to find him bent low above his work. Sloan 
himself had not paid the least attention to any but 
Mr. Nelson. As he reached the street door, he 
called back a “ Good day ! Come on, young- 
ster,” he added; “ you’ve got to show me that soda 
fountain pretty soon, or my throat will burst into 
flames.” 

But there was no thought of soda as soon as Sloan 
was out of sight of the bank. Before he had fairly 
reached the street, the papers had been carefully but- 
toned beneath his coat, and now, as he hurried along, 
his hands were thrust into his side pockets and Joe 
noticed that one bulged as if his fist was closed over 
something. “ About here,” announced Sloan, “ is 
where we begin a quick pilgrimage for the Mayhew 
offices. If any one tries to stop me to ask questions, 
you drop behind me, quick. Things happen sud- 
denly, these days.” 

The old tingle of excitement began to rush up 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 269 


and down Joe’s spine. He didn’t want anything to 
happen. He had seen quite enough of that sort of 
thing to last him a life time, but he knew, from 
Sloan’s whole attitude of constant watchfulness, 
that something might, at any instant, and that the 
man was ready for it. More and more he admired 
his cold nerves, yet he could not quite understand 
why, if there were risks, he was content to face them 
alone. He had completely forgotten that not three 
other people in Gillfield knew so much of the inside 
story as did he. 

He had arrived at the stage where, if the expected 
had happened, he would have been surprised. It 
was for this reason that he only stopped short as they 
entered Mr. Mayhew’s private office. There, by the 
window, sat the long-lost Mr. Jackson, his legs 
crossed comfortably, one of the old boss’s cigars in 
his mouth. But, on the instant, he was alert. “ Get 
’em, Billy ? ” he asked, on his feet and half across 
the room. 

“ Surest thing you know ! ” The coat was 
swiftly unbuttoned and Sloan produced the papers 


270 THE BOY SCOUTS 

over which he had shown so little concern. “ It 
isn’t the full set, but it’s sure some little treasure.” 
He turned to Mr. Mayhew at the desk. “ If you 
don’t endow these Boy Scouts with a public library, 
or town hall, or something worth while,” he an- 
nounced, his eyes dancing, “ the United States gov- 
ernment will have to. They’ve certainly done one 
fine, dandy piece of work.” 

“ Gillfield is still able to take care of herself in 
some ways,” chuckled the old gentleman. “ Appar- 
ently you’re making progress.” 

Jackson, who was already seated at a table, por- 
ing over the papers, glanced up. “ I’ll stake my 
reputation as — as a bond salesman,” he said, with 
a wink at Joe, “ you’ll be completely satisfied by 
sunset.” 

“ Make it ten to-night,” suggested Sloan. “ I’m 
sorter planning a little farce for this evening.” 

“ You’re the stage manager. I’ve got to get to 
work on this stuff.” He hitched his chair closer to 
the table and pulled the papers toward him. 

Mr. Mayhew looked from one man to the other 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 271 

and a satisfied smile came over his wrinkled face. 
“Commandeered my office, have you?” he said. 
“ Any objections to my walking through my 
shops ? ” 

“ None in the least,” Jackson assured him, with a 
grin. “ Guess we have made ourselves at home.” 

“ Glad of it. Owe you two a lot.” 

“ All working for 'the same cause, sir.” 

“ You’re right. Come on, Joe. They don’t want 
us.” 

“ We’re only too glad to have you, sir,” stated 
Sloan. “ We’ve no secrets from a Mayhew. As 
for this boy, I guess we might as well have it over 
with now.” He walked up to the lad and laid a 
heavy hand on his shoulder. “ You’re under ar- 
rest,” he announced. 

For a moment Joe’s face went white, then he 
laughed. “Going to shoot me at sunrise?” he 
asked. 

From Jackson’s table came a lively chuckle. “If 
you had as clear a conscience as that, Billy, you’d 
try to borrow money.” 


272 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ I guess you’re right,” admitted Sloan. “ Nev- 
ertheless, Joe, old boy, there’s a little bit of truth in 
every joke. You’re at least under detention.” 

“ Why? ” He saw there was no trace of humor 
in this, saw Mr. Mayhew stop suddenly in the door- 
way, saw Mr. Jackson watching him. 

“ Because it will be safer for you,” answered 
Sloan soberly. “ I think there are a number of peo- 
ple in and about Gillfield who would give a good deal 
to even a few scores with you.” 

“ Do you mean — Would any one — ” Joe’s 
lips were dry and it began to dawn over him that he 
was really playing a part in a desperate game in spite 
of the calm, joking way these two young men treated 
everything. 

“ I do,” Sloan agreed, as if reading his thoughts. 
“ I mean more than you want to think. You’re 
safer with us than you would be anywhere else. 
And I don’t know how safe that is, either. The 
Stone gang know we’ve got part of the stuff. They 
realize what that means. They’d take any chance 
to get it back before it can get out of our hands. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 273 


They also know that you’re largely responsible for 
our getting it. They’re low enough to try for re- 
venge, if they can’t get more. They’ll try for 
both.” 

Mr. Mayhew came back into the room. “ Is that 
true ? ” he demanded. 

“ Every word.” 

The thin lips set into a thinner line. “ You 
mean the boy’s in danger? ” 

“If he gets far from us. Danger enough, even 
if he doesn’t.” 

The big fist crashed down on the desk. “ I’ll not 
tolerate it. I’ve not interfered. I do now. Gill- 
field has given me all I have. Next to the son 
I have given to my country, it is closest to me. I 
will not risk a hair of a Gillfield boy’s head to save 
this plant. Call off your men. I’m done.” 

“ But, Mr. Mayhew — ” 

“ You don’t understand.” Jackson was on his 
feet, the papers neglected. 

“ I understand enough,” stated the old gentleman, 
his eyes blazing. “This boy’s in danger; I’m the 


274 THE BOY SCOUTS 

cause of his being there. That’s enough. I’ll get 
him out of that danger.” 

Jackson wouldn’t have been what he was, if he 
hadn’t been able to think quickly. “ How ? ” he 
asked calmly. 

“ Never failed in what I’ve undertaken yet.” 

“ Then please don’t begin now.” It was Joe who 
spoke and he came close to the man and looked up 
into the angry eyes, fearlessly. “ Please don’t. 
You promised to let me help, to give me a chance 
to do my bit for my country. I’ve tried hard, all 
of us have tried hard. We’ve almost succeeded. 
Mr. Sloan and Mr. Jackson both say so. I’m not 
afraid. You’ve risked a lot; you’re letting Mr. 
Steve risk his life; my father’s in the army; don’t 
make me give up my chance.” 

“ He can’t,” said Sloan ; “ it’s beyond him. No 
one can stop the secret service. This isn’t a case of 
the individual, it’s for the good of the United 
States.” 

“Of course it is,” cried Joe. “ What difference 
do I make? What do I count? If I were older. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 275 

I’m sure that you’d be the first to tell me to enlist, 
sir.” 

“ But you’re not * older/ ” he protested. 

“ The boy’s right.” Jackson’s voice was that of 
an older man now. “ So’s Sloan. It’s our country 
first, Mr. Mayhew.” 

The old gentleman looked from man to boy, then 
the shaggy head went up. “ You’re right,” he 
agreed ; “ it’s our country first. Good luck to you ! ” 
He wheeled and walked abruptly from the room, 
his shoulders back, his step firm. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE TRAP WHICH SET ITSELF 

The old boss could not have been half way 
across his outer office before Sloan had drawn a 
chair to Jackson’s side. “ Make yourself comfort- 
able, Joe,” he advised. “ We’re going to have a 
busy hour here. Pull up and listen, if you want.” 

It was the thing, above all else, that the boy did 
want. Having been so frankly informed that real 
danger was hovering so close above his head, reac- 
tion was now beginning to tell on him and he felt 
a cold, leaden sensation in the pit of his stomach. 
He knew that the one thing he must not do was to 
sit idle, speculating over what might happen to him, 
yet, as he glanced at the two eager, intelligent faces 
bent above their task, he could not imagine how any- 
thing, which could possibly be foreseen, could hap- 
pen, Their very confidence in themselves gave him 
276 


THE BOY SCOUTS 277 

added confidence and he quietly brought a chair to 
the opposite side of the table and sat down. 

Jackson was muttering German words under his 
breath as he studied that first sheet of the rescued pa- 
pers. Sloan had pulled a pad under his hand but 
his eyes were fixed on his companion’s face. It was 
so quiet that Joe could hear the ticking of the little 
clock on Mr. Mayhew’s desk and the low roar of 
the distant machinery. At last Jackson looked up. 
“ It’s mean stuff to translate, Billy,” he confessed. 
“ Most of it’s in code.” He ran through the rest 
of the papers before him. “ It’s the German Intel- 
ligence crowd, all right.” 

“ Had we better try to work it out? ” 

“ I don’t know,” he acknowledged frankly. “ I 
don’t know as I could. It’s a bad mess — especially 
with every other page missing. If we had it all, I’d 
stay with it till we had a translation, for I’m sure 
it’s a real haul. Look here,” he said, laying a sheet 
between them; “this says that any messages from 
176 are to be forwarded to 149 at 16. Sixteen’s 
that old place in New York. This means that Stone 


278 THE BOY SCOUTS 

has been in communication almost directly with Ber- 
lin.” 

“ Sure gives us the evidence we need to put away 
the New York crowd/’ 

“ Certainly does. It’s big stuff — bigger than 
any of us hoped for.” 

“ Whew!” 

“ I mean it,” stated Jackson. “ Look here.” He 
pointed to a paragraph half down a page. “ You’ve 
seen those numbers before; don’t they mean any- 
thing to you now? It’s the first time we’ve found 
so many of them together. Friend Stone is higher 
up in this thing than we’ve given him credit for be- 
ing.” 

“ But why should they have planted him in this 
little, out-of-the-way place? ” 

“ Just because it is out of the way. I’d like to 
see his mail for the past six months.” 

“ I saw it last night,” retorted Sloan sorrowfully. 
“ It was in ashes. Hang it all, why didn’t you have 
him put away on suspicion for that Connelly busi- 
ness! You saw enough to be sure of your man.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 279 


“ Wouldn’t have had this, if I had.” 

“ Right ! Guess I’m letting my disappointment 
make me thick. What we want’s the other half of 
these papers.” 

“ We’re not the only ones who are worrying about 
the missing half,” observed Jackson. 

“ I’ve been working on that line for the past two 
hours,” Sloan confessed. “ If this stuff is as dan- 
gerous to them as you say, it looks like a good bet 
for us.” 

“ They’d never have a better chance than here,” 
agreed Jackson thoughtfully. “ They’d certainly 
never have the nerve to try it in New York or Wash- 
ington. I don’t especially want to be sand-bagged, 
shot up or found with my throat slit, but I’d gladly 
take a chance at all of them, if I thought I could land 
this gang and their line of communications.” 

“ Knew you would. That’s why I’ve done what 
I’ve have.” 

“ What’s that?” 

For three minutes Sloan explained his plan and 
plot while Jackson listened, nodding agreement and 


280 THE BOY SCOUTS 

approval, and Joe Lowell caught his breath at almost 
every other word. He knew that these two were 
brave, but he had never before supposed two men 
could deliberately put their necks into a noose and 
do it with a smile. 

“ There’re only two weak links,” confessed Jack- 
son at last. “ One is the boy, the other’s taking it 
for granted Stone and his crowd are still hanging 
around here.” 

“ I’m sure of the kid.” Sloan’s eyes snapped. 
“ I never saw guilt stamped plainer on any face. 
He’s been terrorized into it in some way. As for 
Stone and his crowd, we know they’re still around 
somewhere, or some of the rest would have picked 
them up. We took care of that end last night. 
Every line of escape is closed for him. Besides 
that, we’re sure some of them were after these pa- 
pers this morning. Young Wilson saw Schwartz.” 

“ If I were sure they were still here, that they 
weren’t trying to get off in an automobile, I’d be 
with you.” 

“ But they can’t get away, I tell you.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 281 


“ I’m not so sure.” 

“ But it’s the only chance,” argued Sloan. 

“ We’ll take it, of course,” agreed Jackson, as 
calmly as if it were merely a suggestion for supper. 
“ But, if it doesn’t work, we’ve wasted a lot of val- 
uable time. If I could only be sure there were some 
of them still here, I’d be keen for it. Hang that tel- 
ephone! ” he exclaimed impatiently, as the bell rang 
insistently for the fourth time. “ Answer it, Joe. 
Tell ’em Mr. Mayhew’s gone home.” 

“ Hold on ! ” Sloan was on his feet. “ It may 
be for us.” 

“ No one knows we’re here, do they? ” 

“ They’re not supposed to.” He picked up the 
receiver. “ Mr. Mayhew’s office,” he growled. 
“ Ha — hum — ! Who is this? — Oh! All 
right. — No, he isn’t here. — Good-by.” 

He put down the instrument and turned to the 
boy. “ Joe,” he commanded sharply, “ call up your 
mother and find out if she’s hunting for you.” 

It took but a moment for the lad to learn that 
Mr. Nelson had been to the Lowell home an hour 


282 THE BOY SCOUTS 

before to assure Mrs. Lowell her son was all right 
and might stay with him, or Mr. Mayhew, until late 
that evening. She had not dreamed of calling him. 

Sloan returned to the table, his mouth grim. 
“ That settles it,” he stated. “ Young Hunt, at the 
bank, telephoned that Mrs. Lowell wanted Joe at 
home at once.” 

“ But she didn’t,” declared the boy. “ She said 
she didn’t.” 

He saw the two men look at each other. “ What 
is it? ” he asked, his voice shaking. 

“ Nothing,” retorted Jackson; “just a mistake.” 

“ It — it — It’s some of that gang after me.” 

“ Not a bit like it ! ” lied Sloan, with a cheery 
laugh. “ Just some chump trying to find out what 
all three of us are doing down here in Mr. Mayhew’s 
office.” 

“ I’m not afraid,” stated the boy stoutly. 

“ We know that.” He turned to Jackson. 
“ Had we better go ahead with my plan? ” he asked. 

“ Yes.” 

There was no hesitancy in Jackson’s voice, or 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 283 


manner, now. As well as Sloan, he knew the full 
meaning of that attempt to lure Joe Lowell out of 
the Mayhew plant. He, too, knew what all three 
might have to face. His only regret was that they 
had allowed this boy to become so enmeshed. But 
it was no time to consider the individual. 

i 

It took him less than three minutes to locate Mr. 
Mayhew out in the plant. As they came back into 
the office, Jackson strode to the table and, picking 
up the papers, held them out. “ Mr. Mayhew,” he 
said, “ these things are far more important than we 
had any cause to expect. They’re safe with you, 
because no one will suspect that you have them. 
Will you go down to the bank, put them in your 
private box and keep them there until I can get 
them, or send some one who will act for me ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Can you let me have five or six sheets of paper 
this same size? ” 

The old boss walked to his desk and began a 
hasty search. “ Send for some,” he said ; “ none 
here.” 


284 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Had you just as soon go yourself, sir? ” Sloan 
spoke quickly. 

“ Yes. Course.” The old gentleman stalked out 
of the room. He had not run errands for many 
years but now he did so willingly, and Joe learned a 
lesson about not being curious over other people’s 
affairs. 

He came back while the boy was still marveling 
at his docility, and, without a word, laid a package 
of thin paper on the table. It was Sloan who ripped 
it open and took what he wanted. Then, without 
further explanations, he dug the still soggy envelope 
Tug Wilson had found, out of the waste basket, 
stuffed the blank sheets into it and snapped a heavy 
rubber band about the package. 

“ It’s only fair to tell you, Mr. Mayhew,” he 
said, as he folded the real papers and handed them 
to him, “ that these are a dangerous keep-sake. I’d 
get them out of my hands as soon as I could.” 

“ Understand. Don’t worry about me. What 
are you going to do with that boy ? ” 

“ Take him with us.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 285 


“ Is it absolutely necessary ? ” 

“ We think it best.” 

“ Very well.” He nodded gravely. “ But un- 
derstand this,” he 'added, “ I hold you responsible 
for his safety.” 

“ That’s why we’re taking him with us. Should 
anything unforeseen occur, Chief O’Connor will no- 
tify you. There may be some unpleasant incidents 
in the town before morning. Don’t permit it to 
worry you.” Jackson picked up his hat. “ All 
ready, Billy ? ” 

“ Strike up the band ! ” answered Sloan, his eyes 
dancing at the thought of action at last. “ I’ll take 
the bait.” He grabbed the envelope with the fake 
papers from his companion but, to Joe’s surprise, did 
not put it in his pocket. “ It pays to advertise,” he 
chuckled, as he noted the lad’s look of astonishment. 
“ Forward, the Light Brigade! Good-by, Mr. May- 
hew. Thanks for all you’ve done.” 

“ You look out for that boy.” 

“ We will. Come on ! ” Sloan caught Joe by 
the arm and led him through the outer office, 


286 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


As they reached the street, Jackson came hurry- 
ing after them and fell into step on the boy’s other 
side. “ We’re making a mountain out of a mole 
hill,” he said. “ No one — not even a crazy Hun — 
would be chump enough to start anything in broad 
day in a public street.” 

“ Course they wouldn’t,” agreed Sloan ; “ that’s 
why we’re walking. All we expect — and want — 
is to be seen. From now on, this is my party. I 
believe I’ll blow you both to a soda. I promised 
Joe one.” 

The boy was thoroughly mystified. Sloan’s high 
spirits made him feel more comfortable. He didn’t 
know that the prospect of risk was acting as a tonic 
on the man. Jackson, too, seemed not to have a 
care in the world. They laughed and talked like 
two boys on their way to a circus. Even in the drug 
store, they appeared to pay no attention to any one, 
or anything, around them. Had he not known how 
important was the work they had in mind, he would 
have thought himself the victim of an exaggerated 
practical joke. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 287 


But, if the two had mystified him, both at the 
drug store and on their way through the town, Sloan 
staggered him as he led the way into the inn and 
marched up to the desk. “ Want a room for my- 
self and friend for the night,” he said, in a loud 
voice. “ Good room, too. Quiet and not high up. 
’Fraid of fire in these small towns. Give us a room 
on a fire escape, if you’ve one handy.” 

“ Yes, sir. Will you register? ” 

“ Sure thing! ” 

To Joe’s utter amazement, Sloan wrote “ Wash- 
ington, D. C.” after both their names. It seemed as 
if he might fairly be inviting any trouble that might 
be around. “ And don’t forget that fire escape,” he 
warned, as he put down the pen. 

“ Have to give you a room at the back of the 
house, then, Mr. Sloan.” 

“ Suits me. Quieter there — if you don’t keep 
chickens. Don’t keep chickens, do you? I hope 
not ! ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Fine! My friend, Mr. Jackson, is terribly sore 


288 THE BOY SCOUTS 

on chickens. Break his slumber, and all that sort 
of thing.” 

The clerk looked up at Jackson. “ You’ve been 
with us before, I think,” he said. 

“ That’s so. Bond business is all shot to pieces 
these days.” 

"What house are you traveling for?” 

“ His firm says he’s traveling for pleasure, not 
for them,” grinned Sloan. “ Let’s get upstairs ; 
I’ve a heap of stuff to attend to. By the way,” he 
called back, “ if any one should happen to ask for 
either of us, we’re out. Understand ? ” 

“ Certainly, Mr. Sloan.” 

“ Come on, Joe; you stick with us. Maybe we’ll 
have another errand for you to run. You’re a 
handy sort.” 

The three followed a bell boy to the second floor 
and down a long hall to a big room at the back of 
the inn. Sloan’s first act was to go to the window 
and look for the fire escape. It was there, as prom- 
ised. His next was to raise all the curtains. 
“ That’s all, boy,” he said to the attendant. “ We’ll 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 289 

ring, if we want anything. Where’s the tele- 
phone ? 

“ At the head of the bed.” 

“ All right.” 

As the door closed, Sloan slipped out of his coat 
and Joe saw the butt of an automatic peering out 
of his hip pocket. “ See that innocent chap, who 
looked like a cheese drummer, sitting in the far cor- 
ner of the office, Joey? ” he asked. 

" No.” 

“ Too bad! May see him yet. Always pays to 
keep your eyes open, youngster.” 

“ But you didn’t even seem to look around.” 

“ No ? ” Sloan laughed. “ I do my looking round 
on the way into a room,” he confessed. “ This 
thing’s going to work like a charm, Jackson, old 
dear. They’ve got us located for fair and they 
know I’m simp enough to have brought their dear 
little secrets here to solve in the privacy of my little 
pink boudoir. Oh, heavens, how are we ever going 
to kill time from now till midnight ! I haven’t even 
got a magazine.” 


290 THE BOY SCOUTS 

“ There’s a news stand downstairs,” suggested 
Joe. “ Send for some.” 

“ Hardly! We’re very busy men, old feller me 
lad. We’re tryin’ to read German.” 

“ Can I ask a question ? ” It was five minutes 
later and Joe was on the edge of the bed while the 
two men were seated at the table and, apparently, 
very busy over some intricate paper work. 

“ All you want. It will be a pleasant relief. I’ve 
drawn two ships and a perfectly lovely barn, but I 
don’t seem to care for either of ’em.” 

“ Then, if you think one of the Stone gang’s 
downstairs, why don’t you arrest him ? ” 

“ Quite so ! ” Sloan looked up and nodded 
gravely. “ A perfectly intelligent query, my dear 
sir, perfectly so. That is, it would be, if I were a 
policeman. But I’m not. Besides that, he’s going 
to be very kind to us. He’s going to tell the man 
we want, that we’re here, that we have his papers 
and that all he has to do is come get ’em. He’s a 
sort of private messenger — only he doesn’t know 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 291 


“ But how do you know that? ” 

The laughter left Sloan’s eyes. “ I don’t know 
it, Joe,” he confessed. “ I’m just guessing. It’s all 
I can do. I’ve had quite a bit of experience with 
the Hun and I’m counting on this crowd’s running 
true to form. It’s a guessing match, but I’m going 
to try to out-guess them. It’s like baseball with a 
man on third and one out. The squeeze play’s the 
natural thing to expect. The Hun never does the 
unexpected. He’s not trained to think, or to be 
original. He’s trained to do the obvious thing in 
the obvious way. That’s his idea of showing might 
is right.” 

“ But suppose three or four of them came up here 
and tried to kill you two.” 

“ They’re not advertising,” promptly retorted 
Sloan. “ Anything they pull will be mighty quiet.” 

The boy shook his head dolefully. “ I don’t un- 
derstand it at all,” he said. “ I don’t see why you 
don’t arrest them as you come across them, one at a 
time.” 

“ If we picked one up — blooie ! The rest would 


292 THE BOY SCOUTS 

vanish into thin air. We want the rest of those pa- 
pers and Stone. I f we could locate Stone — ’ He 
laughed grimly. “ You wouldn’t have any cause to 
complain.” 

“ How many of ’em are there here? ” 

“ Dunno,” retorted Sloan carelessly, as he once 
more made himself busy with nothing at all. 
“ Maybe two, maybe three. The more the merrier.” 

It was utterly incomprehensible to the boy. As 
the late afternoon dragged slowly away he became 
more and more uneasy. For six weeks he had 
worked hard, had built suspicion into theory and 
theory into certainty but now, with results almost 
in sight, these two men, who were experts in the 
work he had attempted, appeared to be throwing 
away all the fruits of the work already done. If 
ever a plan seemed foolish, it was the one they were 
putting into action. Joe did not mind being a part 
of a trap, but he did object to being the cheese. 

Jackson insisted that they have their supper 
brought up to the room. It helped to kill another 
hour, but it also did more. It started Sloan telling 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 293 


stories of the work he had done in the past two 
years. Joe was fascinated. He had read some 
detective tales, but this was his first peep behind 
real scenes. Sloan’s modest way of relating things 
added to the excitement of each succeeding story 
and, somehow or other, revived the boy’s confidence 
in him. Night, too, played its part. The curtains 
before the windows were drawn tight now and many 
things seemed more possible than they had in broad 
day. 

It was well after eight when the telephone began 
to ring violently. Joe was on his feet in a flash but 
Sloan’s hand fell on his shoulder. “ Never mind 
that,” he said, with a queer smile. 

“ But some one wants us.” 

“ And I told the clerk we were out,” Sloan re- 
minded him. “ Some one doesn’t believe him. 
Ever go fishing ? ” 

“ Yes. But what’s that got to do with a tele- 
phone call ? ” 

(t Nothing much, perhaps. When you’ve been 
fishing, ever have a bite ? ” 


294 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ Why, yes — Oh ! ” It was a long-drawn ex- 
clamation. Joe saw the light — or, at least, thought 
he caught its glimmer. 

“ Oh ! ” Sloan was a good mimic and his eyes 
were dancing. “ You see, inaction tells on others, as 
well as on you, Joe. We’re not the ones who are 
worrying. No one in the world’s got a thing on us 
and we’ve more time than we know what to do 
with.” 

“ But if they want to find out if we’re here, they’ll 
come up,” argued the boy. 

“ Oh, no. They’ll send the bell boy. They’re 
not taking that chance so early in the game.” 

Almost before he had finished speaking, they 
heard some one running down the hall, and the next 
instant there was a sharp knock at the door. Jack- 
son grinned appreciatively. In two strides he was 
at the door and had thrown it open. “ See here,” 
he said sharply, “ we gave orders that we were not 
to be disturbed and told the clerk to say that we were 
not in to visitors. We meant that. You go back 
and tell him so. And go quick.” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 295 


“ But— 5 * 

“ You go ! ” snapped Jackson. He slammed the 
door and returned to his chair. “ Gee, but I hate to 
bully kids ! ” he exclaimed. “ What’s the next act 
in your play, Billy? ” 

“ It’s the dear old midnight robbery stuff,” Sloan 
sighed, stretching his arms over his head and yawn- 
ing. “ They’ve located us ; they know we’ve put 
nothing in the hotel safe ; they think what they want 
is here in this room. Therefore, with the really ar- 
tistic deductions of a sleuth — which thing I am not 
— they will come get ’em. They may try the door, 
but I think that fire escape is going to prove too 
tempting.” 

“ It’s too crude! ” declared Jackson. 

“ It’s what’ll happen.” 

“ Are you going to stay here quietly and allow 
people, who you yourselves say don’t care what hap- 
pens to them, to try to break in here? ” asked Joe, 
his eyes wide. 

“ What do you suppose we’ve been sitting here all 
this time for? ” 


296 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ I give up ! For pure, cold nerve, you fellows 
are world beaters ! ” 

“ It isn’t nerve,” grinned Sloan. “ I’ve told you 
it was just out-guessing the Hun. It’s all just part 
of the day’s work. Hello! What’s that? ” 

The boom of a great whistle shook the windows 
and, an instant later, was followed by the jangle of 
bells. From the distant street, they heard sharp, 
excited shouts. “ Fire ! ” exclaimed the boy. “ It’s 
the fire whistle on the Mayhew plant.” 

“ Mean a fire there ? ” Sloan’s voice was sharp. 

“ No. Might be anywhere in town.” 

“ Oh ! ” His whole bearing changed as he looked 
at Jackson and began to laugh. “ Do you get it? ” 
he asked. 

“ No. Can’t say I do.” 

“ Maybe I’m wrong. Don’t think so. They’re 
more clever than I thought. They’re drawing the 
crowd to the front, and away from our fire escape.” 
He whipped his automatic from his pocket, took a 
quick look at the loaded clip, slipped on his coat and 
then dropped the gun into a side pocket. “ It’s a 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 297 

good play/’ he said coldly. “ I’m going to the front 
of the house and take a look — see? It’s what they 
want us both to do. We’ll accommodate ’em by 
half. I’ll be where I can back you up best, old man. 
Keep your eye on the windows.” 

From the street came louder shouts, then the 
clanging of the fire department. “ I’m still hitting 
the bull’s-eye with my guesses,” stated Sloan, as he 
opened the door. “ That thing’s about across the 
street. It will draw a crowd and all the attention. 
Clever ! ” he repeated. “ Didn’t give ’em credit for 
such cleverness.” 

“ Think that’s it?” Jackson’s voice expressed 
not a trace of excitement. 

“Fits in close with my ideas. So long!” He 
slipped out into the hall and ran toward the front 
of the house. But when he got to the distant win- 
dow, he took but a quick glance at the crowd below. 
He could see no smoke. He did not look for flame. 
In a flash, he came tip-toeing to the open door. 

Jackson, even though he had far less faith in his 
associate’s theory, had acted with equal swiftness. 


298 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


Before Joe knew what had happened, the lights were 
snapped out. The boy, still seated on the edge of 
the bed, felt a hand on his shoulder. “ Come,” 
commanded the man. 

“ Don’t you want me to watch the door? ” 

“ No. Sloan’s there. Remember where the ra- 
diator was? Sit down on the floor by it.” 

“ But I’m not afraid. I want to help.” 

“ Do as you’re told.” Jackson’s voice was low, 
but there was no mistaking the insistence in its 
command. 

Joe obeyed. He heard a curtain gently raised, 
saw the lighter spot where the window opened in 
the wall. Jackson himself was not to be seen. 
The room was utterly silent. From out in the dis- 
tant street came the sound of shouts and the clang- 
ing of new gongs as the apparatus from a distant 
station arrived. The boy, crouched on the floor, 
felt as if he were reading an impossible detective 
story backward. It was all happening in such per- 
fect accord with Sloan’s theories that he did not 
think anything could surprise him now. But, before 



THE LOW-CROUCHING FIGURE ON THE FIRE ESCAPE MOVED 

SWIFTLY NOW ” 





OF THE WOLF PATROL 299 

the thought was well settled in his mind, his heart 
was in his throat. In the dim light outside the 
window, he saw the shadow of a man. 

Joe’s nails sank into the palms of his hands. He 
wanted to scream. He wanted to warn Jackson. 
He wanted to do anything. He had been told that 
this gang was desperate. Here was one who was 
so desperate that he was forcing the issue. If he 
had seen attempted murder done on Connelly, he 
realized he would see the real thing now, should 
Jackson make a false move. 

He heard the window shake, the soft rasp of wood 
on wood as the sash was raised. The low-crouching 
figure on the fire escape moved swiftly now. A leg 
came over the sill, the body followed. Joe heard 
the soft thud as the man’s feet touched the carpet. 
A moment’s absolute silence, then the bright white 
beam of a flashlight shot across the room and struck 
him full in the face. 

“ Uh ! ” The exclamation was one of utter sur- 
prise. The man had not expected to find the room 
occupied. That was evident from the second’s 


300 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


wavering of the light. But, in that second, some- 
thing cold and round was pressed against the side 
of his head. 

“Drop that gun, Stone!” Jackson commanded 
coldly. “ The game’s up.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE WOLVES HOWL 

When Joe Lowell tumbled into bed that night, 
he expected to be asleep almost as his head connected 
with the pillows. He was physically tired out, but 
there was one more new experience due him. He 
tried to count the sheep as they jumped through the 
gate, one after the other; he tried to forget the 
sheep by counting from one to ten over and over 
again. He tried the multiplication tables and he 
tried the alphabet, but always the blanched face of 
Henry Stone peered at him from the shadows. The 
reaction from such a day as he had spent made him 
toss and turn, living again through each long hour 
and each exciting second. 

Even now that it was all over, he could not fully 
appreciate all he had done, even with the memory 
of Sloan’s enthusiasm and Jackson’s sober, sincere 
words vivid in his mind. The last quick tableau in 


301 


302 THE BOY SCOUTS 

the inn’s back room was burned into his brain for 
all time. Never before had he seen an abject 
coward. He had thought Stone as brave as he was 
daring but, when he had witnessed his utter collapse, 
heard his whimpering, whining, full confession and 
seen him crouched, sniveling and handcuffed, in the 
corner of the room, he had become sickened with it 
all and had been glad when told that everything was 
over and that he could go home. 

Sloan and Jackson had done everything with a 
cool calmness which excited his admiration beyond 
words. Even when the other pages of the missing 
papers were found in Stone’s clothes, there had been 
no sign of triumph on the face of either man. As 
they had told him over and over again, it had all 
been in the day’s work. Joe knew that even now 
the man whom Sloan had called the “ cheese drum- 
mer ” was in a cell next to Stone in the police sta- 
tion, knew that Sloan was rushing to New York, so 
that other arrests could be made in the morning, 
knew that what had been the Stone gang was the 
Stone gang no longer and that he, Joe Lowell, had 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 303 


been mainly responsible for breaking up a Hun plot 
which was to have crippled many a plant besides 
that of the Mayhews. 

Sleep came at last. Had he not been so ex- 
hausted, he would have dreamed of raiding German 
trenches, of repelling Zeppelin raids alone in a Spad, 
of doing all sorts of things almost as impossible as 
what he had accomplished in his waking hours. 
But, as it was, he was awake before it seemed that 
his eyes had closed. Yet the sunlight was bright in 
his room and his mother was calling him to break- 
fast. 

His first thought was to find Harve and check up 
all the points in the story with him. But he remem- 
bered that Fat must be already at work in the plant. 
He thought of hunting up Tug but, before he could 
quite decide what to do, Chief O’Connor appeared 
with the information that Mr. Jackson wanted him 
to come to the station at once. 

It was because of this that Harve, foregoing his 
dinner for the first time in his life, failed to locate 
him that noon. The big fellow was teeming with 


304 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


curiosity. He knew something had happened. All 
Gillfield knew that. But, like the rest of Gillfield, 
he didn’t know what it was, although he suspected 
more than most. 

Half way through the afternoon, he almost made 
up his mind to go to Mr. Mayhew’s office and ask for 
news. Could he have caught a glimpse of the old 
boss’s face as he sat at his desk, the boy would 
have gone without hesitating but, as it was, his 
courage failed him for the second time and he stuck 
to his post in the distant corner of the yard till the 
evening whistle blew. 

Then he tore himself from his job with all the 
speed of a boy who had remembered two very im- 
portant things — firstly, that he had had no dinner ; 
secondly, that he had been invited out to supper. 
There was a certain fitness between the two that 
appealed most strongly to Fat. 

He was frankly panting when he rang the bell at 
the Nelsons’. He hoped the Scout Commissioner 
would take this as a compliment and overlook the 
fact that he was almost a minute late. Whatever 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 305 

were his host’s feelings, however, Harve had no 
cause for complaint over the heartiness of his recep- 
tion. “ Well, well, Harvey,” he said, “ we’re surely 
glad to see you. The rest are here, and we’re 
hoping Mrs. Nelson has supper ready for us.” 

Harvey wanted to be most polite, but there was a 
look in the man’s eyes which tempted him to be 
natural. “ I’m hoping so, too,” he confessed. 
“ Honestly, I’m starved.” 

“ Good enough! Come in and see the fellows.” 
He led the way through the sitting-room and out 
onto the big veranda overlooking a pretty garden. 
Hammocks, deep pillowed couches and long, low 
comfortable chairs, made the place most attractive, 
but what appealed to Harve was the sight of Joe 
in the big settee-swing. “ Hello ! ” he exclaimed. 
“ Thought you’d vanished into thin air.” 

“ So did the rest of us,” chimed in Alex. “ Most 
of us have been hunting him.” 

“ Ought to put Hec on his trail, eh, Tug?” 
grinned Fat. “ Where is the fish hound, anyway? ” 


“ Left him home. 


306 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“Too bad! Nick might go to sleep again.” 

“ That's all right,” agreed Nick, with a wry 
smile. “ I fell down. I'm not trying to find any 
alibi. Tug sure saved us all.” 

“ You’re right, he did ! ” declared Joe. “ Tug’s a 
wonder. He’s going to get — ” 

“ Never mind what he’s going to get in the dis- 
tant future,” interrupted Mr. Nelson; “you’re all 
going to get something to eat now. We thought it 
would be pleasanter to have supper out here. If 
you’ll go into the dining-room, Mrs. Nelson will 
serve you and then you can come back here and eat.” 

“ Fine!” 

“ Yes, sir. 

“ You sure know how to give parties, Mr. 
Nelson.” 

It was just as their host and hostess had wanted 
it to be. The boys felt at home and there was no 
sign of formality or embarrassment. Mrs. Nelson 
had always been a favorite with them all and, this 
evening, she proved to be jollier than ever. 

Mr. Nelson, too, was having fully as good a time 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 307 

as any of the boys. The last plates had been taken 
into the house when he leaned forward on the sofa. 
“ You know I’m sorry,” he declared, “ that I’ve 
never known the Wolf Patrol as well as I should 
have. It didn’t seem to need much attention from 
me and that’s why I’ve missed a whole lot of fun.” 

“ There’s no reason you should miss any more,” 
stated Fat heartily. “ We sure enjoy being with 
you and you’re always welcome at our meetings, 
especially as a fellow Scout, and not as the Commis- 
sioner.” 

“ Don’t want me as Commissioner, then?” 
laughed the man. 

“ Take you any way you’ll come,” cried Alex. 

“ Only come often,” urged Ned Field. “ You 
see, we haven’t got Mr. Steve now and old Joe has 
hard work keeping us in line.” 

“ Doesn’t look much like it,” retorted Mr. Nel- 
son. “ You’ve what can be called a happy patrol.” 

“ Don’t have many scraps, that’s true,” admitted 
Alex. “ We’ve been together so long we know 
each other.” 


308 THE BOY SCOUTS 

“ Ever think of taking in more members? ” 

“ I should say not ! ” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ This is some close corporation.” 

“ We’ve full membership.” 

“ I’d allow you an additional member,” said the 
man slowly. 

“ No, thanks.” 

“ Nothin’ doin’ ! ” 

“ Don’t want him.” 

“ Who’ve you got in mind, sir? ” 

“Joe is leader,” retorted Mr. Nelson. “ I’m 
rather sorry you feel this way. I’ll let him talk.” 

“ Go ahead, Joe.” 

“ What’s up ? ” 

“If you don’t mind,” said the Commissioner, 
getting on his feet, “ I’ll stroll into the house. This 
is a patrol affair. Make yourselves at home. I’ll 
be within call, if you want me.” With that he 
went in, leaving a surprised crowd of boys looking 
at each other. 

“What’s the matter?” muttered Fat. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 309 


Say,” grunted Stan, “ if I’d supposed it was 
going to be some sort of trap, I wouldn’t have 
come.” 

“ Me, either.” 

“ As if we were going to take in any other guy! ” 

“ Nothin’ doin’, nothin’ doin’ a-tall!” Tug de- 
clared. 

“ Slow up ! ” warned Joe quietly. “ I don’t think 
you fellows mean all you say and don’t say anything 
you’ve got to take back.” 

“ What’s up ? ” 

“ Are you part of this plant? ” 

“ We didn’t think it of you ! ” 

The chorus was openly disappointed. 

“ I didn’t think it of myself, until I really took 
time to think,” confessed the boy. “ This isn’t a 
plant. I’m quite as much responsible as Mr. Nelson. 
We both want you fellows to consider it, that’s all.” 

“ Suppose you explain,” said Ned impatiently. 

" I’ll try to — if you’ll be still.” 

“ Call the meeting to order,” advised Harve. 

“I don’t want any patrol meeting — yet. I just 


310 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


want to tell you a story. There’s a good deal hap- 
pened here in Gillfield during the past few weeks,” 
he began, “ and it all centers about Henry Stone. 
He was arrested last night by the secret service for 
being a German spy.” 

“ Whew!” 

“ Great Scott!” 

“ You’ll be more surprised when you hear the 
whole story,” he stated. “ Let me finish my part. 
The papers we were sent out to find yesterday were 
not the bank’s, but Stone’s instructions from Ger- 
many. He had half of them, his wife the other 
half. She threw hers off the train when she knew 
she had been spotted. Fat is responsible for locat- 
ing her in the plot.” 

“ Gee!” 

“ Bully for you, Harve! ” 

“ Holy smoke ! ” 

“ And we never even guessed! Say, Tug, you 
had some close call, old boy ! ” 

“He did,” agreed Joe. “If it hadn’t been for 
Hec, ’most anything might have happened. But 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 311 

that’s another part. What I want to tell you, is 
that all those papers were in Stone’s box at Mr. 
Nelson’s bank. Orders had been given that Stone 
was not to go to that box without Mr. Nelson’s 
being told at once. Stone was suspected, you see, 
and we — they were watching him. Well, anyway, 
Mrs. Stone went there day before yesterday, got the 
papers and tried to escape. Dick Hunt let her into 
the box and did not tell about her having been there.” 

“ Why not?” 

“ Because,” answered Joe gravely, “ because Dick 
was working with the Stone gang.” 

“ Dick!” 

“Joe, do you mean Dick Hunt’s a traitor?” 
Harve’s face was white. 

“They ought to hang him,” exploded Nelse; 
“ that’s what they ought to do to him.” 

“ There’s more than that, fellows.” Joe’s voice 
was quiet, but there was a deep note of feeling in 
it. “ The secret service men suspected him. They 
don’t overlook anything. They laid a trap for him 
yesterday afternoon. Said where they were going, 


312 THE BOY SCOUTS 

so Dick could hear. And he got word to Stone. 
He’s owned up to everything. There’s lot more. 
He even acted as a messenger from Mrs. Stone to a 
man named Schwartz. Told him she’d throw the 
papers off the train where Tug found them.” 

“ What’s all this got to do with us ? ” demanded 
Ned. “ Do they want us to lynch Hunt? If that’s 
the idea, I’m game.” 

“ No. The night Jim Connelly was almost mur- 
dered — Stone was the man who did it,” he threw 
in. “ He’s confessed that — a coat and hat were 
found in the yard nearby. Neither O’Connor nor 
the secret service people could find out who they be- 
longed to until Stone owned up. They were old 
ones of his. He’d put ’em on, sneaked out of his 
house and laid for Connelly to rob him of the 
gauges. But Jackson, who, even then, was trailing 
him, was too quick. Stone had to run. His only 
chance was to double on his tracks. He threw 
away the coat and hat as he ran, jumped into the 
window of his own house and, a minute later, 
rushed out of the front door and up to us with what 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 313 

he supposed would be a complete alibi. He bluffed 
all through that night. He thought he was safe. 
But he wanted a man in the bank, too. Next 
day he hunted up Dick and told him he knew that 
the hat and coat belonged to Dick’s father. He told 
Dick he would tell the police, unless he did just as 
he was told. You know old Hunt, every one does. 
He was drunk that night, just as he always is — 
drunk and uglier than ever. Dick was ready to 
believe anything. But he’s his father. Anyway, 
Stone scared him into promising, and, once he had 
him, he saw to it that he got him in deeper and 
deeper. Dick told us the whole story this morning. 
He broke down completely and just sobbed and 
sobbed. Gee, it was awful! Stone had sworn to 
cut his throat, if he didn’t do exactly as he was 
told.” 

“ Rather late to do the baby act,” growled Alex. 
“ They oughter shoot him. We’re at war.” 

“ That’s exactly what I thought at first. Never 
did know Dick very well. Anyway, I said what I 
thought and said it pretty plainly. The worst part 


314 THE BOY SCOUTS 

of it all was that Dick listened to every word and 
then said he didn’t blame me a bit, said he was all I 
thought and then some.” 

“ Hope you gave it to him good and plenty,” 
growled Fat. 

“ I did,” Joe acknowledged with a sickly smile. 
“ Then I got mine. Mr. Nelson landed on me first. 
He told me something about Dick Hunt I didn’t 
know — how he’d always had to work to keep his 
mother from going hungry, how he had tried to 
straighten out old man Hunt and how Mrs. Hunt 
stuck by her husband, in spite of everything. 
They’re really happy, when the old man’s sober. It 
was on account of his mother that Dick tried to pro- 
tect his father. Possibly some of us would have 
done the same,” he suggested. 

“ Not to help the Huns, we wouldn’t,” declared 
Ned emphatically. 

“ Dick didn’t know about that part,” retorted 
Joe. “ Sloan and Jackson are sure of that. It was 
Jackson who gave me my second call down. It was 
worse than the other. Gee ! I’ve always been 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 315 

scared to death at the very words ‘ secret service,’ 
but now I’ve learned to know that it’s about the 
finest thing in the world. Mr. Jackson told me they 
had enough on Dick to do anything with him. 
Whatever was done, would brand him for all time. 
But he says he’s only a victim ; he wants him to have 
another chance. Stone’s going to pay for what he’s 
done, don’t worry about that, but Dick’s only a kid. 
He didn’t realize what he was doing. They want 
him to stay here and learn to be a man. Jackson 
says that what he’s been through will help to make 
him a better one. He wants us to help him. Both 
he and Mr. Sloan believe in Scouting. They want 
us to take Dick Hunt into the Wolves and help put 
him on his feet.” 

“ Whew ! ” 

" Don’t know Sloan or Jackson,” growled Alex. 
“ Never did like Hunt.” 

“ They’re all right!” Fat declared. “ Finest 
ever! I’m game, Joe. I think it would be real 
Scout work. Dick’s really only a victim. He’s 
just played in hard luck.” 


316 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“ I’ll do whatever you say,” Tug agreed, loyally. 

“ I want you all to do as you think best.” 

“ Let’s think it over,” suggested Ned cautiously. 

“ Let’s think nothin’ over! ” Joe was more than 
surprised when Nick came to his feet. “ I’m keen 
for this. It’s Scouting with a big S. Where’d I 
have been yesterday, where’d any of us been, if Tug 
hadn’t been a good Scout and done the work I 
neglected? None of us would have found those 
papers; Stone would have gotten them and gotten 
away ; Dick Hunt would have grown up into a crook. 
Scouting saved this whole thing, I tell you. Can’t 
you see it? It’s helped us to help others. Talk 
about your good deed every day ! Why, here we’ve 
got the chance to be doing one every second of every 
minute of every hour of every day. I’m for it. I 
vote for Dick Hunt.” 

“ So do I.” 

“ Me, too.” Fat and Tug spoke together. 

“ I believe I’m with you,” Stan announced. “ I 
know I am.” 

Alex looked at the other three who had remained 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 317 

silent. “ Four have voted for him, fellows,” he 
said, thoughtfully. “We four make it a tie. The 
Wolves have never split yet. I don’t like Hunt, but 
I do like Nick’s idea. What do you say?” 

“ That the idea’s good,” declared Ned. “ It’s 
Scouting. The vote isn’t four to four, it’s unani- 
mous.” 

“ I thought it would be,” Joe said with a con- 
tented sigh. “ One thing about the Wolves — they 
always play the game.” 

“ You bet we do ! ” 

“ When you show us the way, old man.” 

“ It’s a pretty wise old gray wolf,” laughed Fat, 
rumpling Joe’s hair and giving his ear a savage 
tug. “ Pretty crafty old boy, ain’t you, Joey? ” 

“ I’m a pretty happy one, I don’t mind telling 
you,” he confessed. “ I think we ought to tell Mr. 
Nelson.” 

“ I’ll go and find him,” Harve volunteered. 

“ Keep out of the pantry,” Nelse chuckled. 
“ You ate all the cake.” 

“ I didn’t,” the big fellow grinned. “ There was 


318 


‘THE BOY SCOUTS 


one piece left. I looked at it a long time. I could 
have chewed it, but I never could have swallowed 
it” 

With a wave of his hand, as if to show that his 
confession closed the argument, he started into the 
house but, as he was going through the long window, 
he met Mr. Nelson coming out. “ Just going for 
you, sir,” he said. “ The Wolves have elected Dick 
Hunt a member of the Patrol.” 

“ Splendid ! ” The man stood in the window and 
glanced from face to face. “ Splendid ! ” he re- 
peated. “ The best part of it all is that not one of 
you has disappointed me. You’ve shown your true 
colors again. But that isn’t what I came to say,” 
he went on. “ Come into my library. I’ve a little 
surprise for you.” 

“ What is it ? ” they chorused. 

“ If you knew, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he re- 
torted. “ Come along.” 

They obeyed, and the first part of that surprise 
was an empty but comfortable room. “ Sit down, 
every one,” ordered Mr. Nelson, taking a seat in the 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 319 

bay window. “ Joe, sit there by the table. You’ve 
had an informal meeting of the Wolves, now I want 
you to hold a formal one.” 

“ Why?” 

The gray eyes twinkled. “ Being Scout Commis- 
sioner, I’m not used to having my orders questioned 
by most patrols.” 

Joe’s heels came together and his hand snapped 
up in salute. But his lips, too, twitched as he turned 
to his friends. “ Meeting will come to order,” he 
declared. “ There being no minutes, nor reports, 
they will be dispensed with. There being no flag 
in the Scout Commissioners headquarters, the usual 
ceremonies will be omitted. The meeting, being a 
special one called at the verbal order of the District 
Scout Commissioner, is now turned over to the Dis- 
trict Scout Commissioner. Soouts, Commissioner 
Nelson is in the chair.” 

Even Mr. Nelson roared. He was keen to enjoy 
a well-turned joke even if turned against himself. 
“ Very well,” he said. “ I appoint Joe, Harvey and 
Nelse as a special committee of three to go into the 


320 THE BOY SCOUTS 

sitting-room and bring what they find in there in 
here.” 

“ Come on, fellows ! ” This was the sort of meet- 
ing Nelse could enjoy. He saw much fun ahead. 
He rushed out of the room, the other two clo-se at 
his heels. 

A moment later they heard a sharp exclamation 
of surprise and a confused “ Beg pardon, sir! I 
didn’t know it was you.” Then the three, Nelse, in 
particular being smileless and red of face, came 
marching back, escorting the old boss. 

Apparently Mr. Mayhew was having a far more 
enjoyable time than the headlong and still rattled 
special committee, for a smile was playing around 
the comers of the usually grim mouth. “ Good 
evening,” he rumbled. 

Had Henry Stone come suddenly into the room, 
the boys could have been no more surprised. The 
old boss was not noted for sociability in his baili- 
wick and, certainly, his appearing like a clap of thun- 
der at a boys’ party was undreamed of. Yet he was 
anything but ill at ease in his strange surroundings. 



OF THE WOLF PATROL 321 

He took a comfortable chair near the table, crossed 
one gaunt leg over the other and peered out from 
under the bushy brows. 

“ It is hardly necessary, sir,” said Mr. Nelson, 
“ to introduce you to the Wolf Patrol. However, I 
believe you wish to speak to its members. Scouts, 
I introduce Mr. Mayhew.” 

The boys didn’t know whether they were expected 
to applaud or not. Under the circumstances, and 
believing they knew the old gentleman, they merely 
nodded like automatons. Mr. Mayhew emitted a 
short, sharp grunt. “ Most of ’em seem to know 
me,” he stated, then turned to his audience. 

“ Always have had one rule in business,” he be- 
gan ; “ don’t write anything you can say and don’t 
say it, if you can help it. Good rule. Going to live 
up to it now.” He thrust a bony hand into a 
pocket and drew out a small box. “ I’ve told some 
of you I never had much use for the Scouts,” he 
began again. “ We never grow too old to learn. 
It’s because I’ve learned, that I asked Mr. Nelson 
to allow me to come and act for him to-night. Yes- 


322 THE BOY SCOUTS 

terday one of you boys did a very fine thing. He 
discovered something which was most important. 
He discovered it because he was persistent and faith- 
ful. There are no finer characteristics. His faith- 
fulness placed him in grave danger • — how grave, 
he will never know. He met the test. It is for that 
reason I have requested the privilege of coming here 
to pin the Scout Medal of Honor on the coat of 
James Wilson.” 

“ Oh ! Oh ! ” Little Tug’s eyes filled with quick 
tears and his knees trembled as much as his lips. 

“ Yea ! ” Joe’s sharp cry started them all. Even 
Mr. Nelson was on his feet, clapping his hands. 

“Tug! Tug!” shouted Nick. “Good old 
Tug!” 

“ And the first Medal of Honor ever given in this 
district, too,” triumphed Fat. “ You can’t beat the 
Wolves!” 

“ Please, sir,” stammered the little chap, “ I didn’t 
do anything. This ought to go to Hec.” 

Even Mr. Mayhew’s eyes grew a bit dim as he 
fumbled with the medal he was pinning on the little 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 323 


gray jacket. “ I think Hec will enjoy your having 
it as much as we all will. I congratulate you, my 
boy.” He grasped a limp hand and shook it 
heartily. “ Now,” he said, “ HI retire and let Mr. 
Nelson tell the rest. I’ve talked enough.” 

“ The rest?” 

“ Is there more ? ” 

“ You’ll do your own talking,” laughed Mr. Nel- 
son. “ This is Mayhew Night with the Wolves.” 

“ All right,” he agreed ; “ beginning to like to 
talk.” ‘ 

In short, crisp sentences he told how Joe and 
Harvey had gone to him at the time of the Liberty 
Loan, how he had held out the first promise for 
Camp Stephen Mayhew and of how they had been 
the first to arouse his suspicion of Henry Stone. 
From the coming of the secret service operatives to 
Gillfield, through all the incidents of the Connelly 
affair, and on through the final capture of the pre- 
vious day, he held them spellbound. Even Joe 
learned of things of which he had not dreamed. 
The old gentleman had never had such an audience. 


324 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


He began to enjoy speaking. He had expected to 
say only a little; he found himself neglecting no 
detail and the chorus of “ Ohs ! ” and “ Gees ! ” grew 
more and more intense. 

“ You’ve all played your parts in this,” he went 
on. “You’ve done your bit. It’s been a big bit. 
I’ve watched you all. Gillfield has been the dearest 
thing in my life. Its future means much to me. 
That future rests with you. You and your friends 
are the coming leaders of the town. I think you 
will be able to do more for Gillfield than I have 
done. If two or three of you have played a larger 
part in what has happened, it was because these two 
or three were given the larger opportunity. I like 
to think that. I know those three will be generous 
enough to let an old man have his fancies.” 

He stopped to glance from boy to boy. Nelse 
Pease could stand it no longer. “ We’d have tried, 
sir,” he said, in a husky voice. “ We’d have done 
our best, but none of us could have done what Joe 
has done.” 


“ That’s right!” 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 325 


“ Joe did it all.” 

“ Give Joe the credit.” 

There was no mistaking the genuineness of their 
belief. Joe’s ears grew scarlet. “ I haven’t done 
anything,” he mumbled. “ Opportunity just came 
my way, that’s all.” 

“ Exactly ! ” said Mr. Mayhew. “ Opportunity 
came your way, but there are few boys who would 
have had the courage to have seized opportunity as 
you have done, who would have been brave enough 
to face the things opportunity put before you, as you 
have faced them, who’d have been willing, and ready, 
to sacrifice himself for others’ good on every occa- 
sion. There are not many boys in America who 
have done what you have done for their country. 
Knowledge of that is your reward, my boy. There 
is none finer. I tell you,” he said, “ the Wolf Patrol 
has reason to be proud of Joe Lowell.” 

“ We are.” 

“ We always have been.” 

“ We always will be.” 

“ There’s only one Joe! ” 


326 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


The boy tried to hide his embarrassment, but his 
heart was thumping fast. The words of the old 
boss were the greatest reward any boy could have. 
He knew he had done his best. Yet, even now, he 
did not realize how fine that best had been. 

Mr. Mayhew rose slowly to his feet. “ When I 
told you about those boys and their Liberty Bonds,” 
he went on, “ I didn’t tell you all the story. Already 
five hundred dollars’ worth of the bonds stand in 
Joe’s and Harvey’s name. Here is the other five 
hundred.” He offered an envelope to the startled 
leader. “ They’re yours, my boys. You’ve kept 
your part of the bargain well. Wait,” he com- 
manded sharply, holding up his hand to check an- 
other outburst, “ I’ve had a letter from my son, 
Stephen, and he does not agree with my plan for the 
camp which this money was to start.” 

A sharp-drawn “ Oh ! ” escaped from Fat Foster’s 
wide-open mouth. That Mr. Steve should go back 
on the Wolves was more than any of them could 
credit. 

“ He does not agree with me at all,” repeated the 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 327 

old boss. “ He says that my plan is wrong; that 
naming the camp for him is absurd. He will not 
listen to such a thing. He says he has done nothing 
to deserve it. He says, further, that a thousand 
dollars would start only a poor sort of camp for 
the Wolves. Stephen is right. He is always 
right.” 

He stopped and, once more, glanced about at the 
disappointed faces. “ I cannot reward you for what 
you have done,” he said, with a gentleness that added 
to their astonishment. “ I would not try to, if I 
could. Your consciences are your best rewards. 
But this I have done. There is a lake ten miles 
back in the hills which I own. I think you’ve been 
there with Stephen. You’re to go there to-morrow, 
pick out a site for a camp, have that camp built as 
you want it, equip it with all you need and send the 
bills to me. That camp will be the property of the 
Wolf Patrol.” 

There was silence for a second — utter, dumb 
silence. Then the eight surged to their feet and 
swarmed about the old boss. 


328 


THE BOY SCOUTS 


“Yell, if you want to,” laughed Mr. Nelson. 
“ I’m certainly going to.” 

They did. Mrs. Nelson came to the doorway to 
see what it was all about. They told her at the top 
of their lungs. She, too, clapped her hands. Only 
the old boss was silent. They would not let him 
speak. 

“Gee!” gurgled Fat, dancing around the room 
with Nelse. “ Gee, but I’d like to kiss the old chap ! 
Wow! Wow!” 

“ Just a minute.” Mr. Mayhew’s voice rose 
above the din like the rumble of the machinery in 
his plant. “ Just a moment, please.” 

They subsided as well as they could, but stood 
hugging themselves in their joy. “ Like most things 
of this sort,” the old gentleman went on, “ there’s a 
condition to the gift. Both Stephen and I insist on 
the privilege of naming the camp.” 

“Of course you can.” 

“ Rather!” 

“ Sure thing!” 

“ It’s going to be Camp Mayhew,” laughed Joe. 


OF THE WOLF PATROL 329 


“ In spite of all you can say, it’s going to be Camp 
John Mayhew.” 

“ Yes ! Yes ! Camp John Mayhew ! ” 

“No!” The old gray head shook firmly. 
“ Boys,” he said, “ Mr. and Mrs. Nelson have let us 
make a deal of noise this evening; perhaps they will 
let us make a little more.” 

“ The house is yours. Go as far as you like,” 
encouraged Mr. Nelson. 

“ I’m having as good a time as you are, Mr. May- 
hew,” retorted the little woman. 

“ Then it’s a very good time,” stated the old 
gentleman, with a bow. “ I’d like to hear a real 
cheer,” he said, turning to the Wolves, “ and I’d 
like to propose that cheer.” 

“ We’re ready.” 

“ We’ll yell our heads off ! ” 

“ All right. Now ! One, two, three. Three 
cheers for Camp Joe Lowell! ” 


THE END 


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ture.” — New York Sun. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI; 

Or, In the Country of the Sioux. 

“ Vivid in style, vigorous in movement, full of dramatic 
situations, true to historic perspective, this story is a 
capital one for boys.” — Watchman Examiner , New York 
City. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOW- 
STONE; Or, Lost in the Land of Wonders. 
“There is plenty of lively adventure and action and 
the story is well told.” — Duluth Herald , Duluth, Minn. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA; 

Or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest. 

“ The story is full of spirited action and contains much 
valuable historical information.” — Boston herald . 

A-2 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE HADLEY HALL SERIES 

By Louise M. Breitenbach 
Each large 12mo , cloth decorative , illustrated , per 
volume , $1.50 

ALMA AT HADLEY HALL 

“ The author is to be congratulated on having written 
such an appealing book for girls.” — Detroit Free Press . 

ALMA’S SOPHOMORE YEAR 

‘‘It cannot fail to appeal to the lovers of good things 
in girls’ books.” — Boston Herald . » 

ALMA’S JUNIOR YEAR 

“ The diverse characters in the boarding-school are 
Strongly drawn, the incidents are well developed and the 
action is never dull.” — The Boston Herald . 

ALMA’S SENIOR YEAR 

** Incident abounds in all of Miss Breitenbach’s stories 
and a healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every 
chapter.” — Boston Transcript. 


THE GIRLS OF 
FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES 

' By Harriet Lummis Smith 
Each large 12mo, cloth decorative , illustrated , 
per volume $1.50 

THE GIRLS OR FRIENDLY TERRACE 

1 u A book sure to please girl readers, for the author seems 
to understand perfectly the girl character.” — Boston 
Globe. 

PEGGY RAYMOND’S VACATION 

“It is a wholesome, hearty story.” — Utica Observer . 

PEGGY RAYMOND’S SCHOOL DAYS 

The book is delightfully written, and contains lots of exciting 
incidents, 

A— 3 


THE PAGE COMPANY'S 


FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES 

By Charles H. L. Johnston 
Each large 12mo , cloth decorative, illustrated, 'per 
volume $2.00 

FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS 

“ More of such books should be written, books that 
acquaint young readers with historical personages in a 
pleasant, informal way.” — New York Sun. 

“ It is a book that will stir the heart of every boy and 
will prove interesting as well to the adults.” — Lawrence 
Daily World. 

FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS 

“ Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, 
and his relation of battles, sieges and struggles of these 
famous Indians with the whites for the possession of 
America is a worthy addition to United States History.” 
— New York Marine Journal. 

FAMOUS SCOUTS 

“ It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascina- 
tion for boys and young men, and while it entertains them 
it will also present valuable information in regard to 
those who have left their impress upon the history of the 
country.” — The New London Day. 

FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVEN- 
TURERS OF THE SEA 

“ The tales are more than merely interesting; they are 
entrancing, stirring the blood with thrilling force and 
bringing new zest to the never-ending interest in the 
dramas of the sea.” — The Pittsburgh Post. 

FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES 
OF THE BORDER 

“ The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly 
readable, making a book of wide appeal to all who love 
the history of actual adventure.” — Cleveland Leader. 

FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS 
OF AMERICA 

“ The book is an epitome of some of the wildest and 
bravest adventures of which the world has known and of 
discoveries which have changed the face of the old world 
as well as of the new. ,v — Brooklyn Daily Eagle . 

A— 4 


BOOKS FOE YOUNG PEOPLE 


HILDEGARDE- MARGARET SERIES 

By Lauba E. Richards 
Eleven Volumes 

The Hildegarde-Margaret Series, beginning with 
“ Queen Hildegarde ” and ending with “ The Merry- 
weathers,” make one of the best and most popular series 
of books for girls ever written. 

Each large 12mo, cloth decorative , illustrated, 

•per volume $1.50 

27*0 eleven volumes boxed as a set . . $16.50 

LIST OF TITLES 

QUEEN HILDEGARDE 

HILDEGARDE’S HOLIDAY 

HILDEGARDE’S HOME 

HILDEGARDE’S NEIGHBORS 

HILDEGARDE’S HARVEST 

THREE MARGARETS 

MARGARET MONTFORT 

PEGGY 

RITA 

FERNLEY HOUSE 

THE MERR YWEATHERS 
A— 5 


THE PAGE COMP ANTS 


THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES 

By Laura E. Richards 

Each one volume, 12mo, cloth decorative, illus- 
trated, per volume 75 cents 

CAPTAIN JANUARY 

A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose 
success has been very remarkable. 

SAME. Illustrated Holiday Edition . . $1.35 

MELODY: The Story of a Child. 

MARIE 

A companion to “ Melody ” and “ Captain J anuary.” 

ROSIN THE BEAU 

A sequel to “Melody” and “Marie.” 
SNOW-WHITE; Or, The House in the Wood. 

JIM OF HELLAS; Or, Ik Durance Vile, and a 
companion story, Bethesda Pool. 

NARCISSA 

And a companion story, Ik Veroka, being two delight- 
ful short stories of New England life. 

“SOME SAY” 

And a companion story. Neighbors ik Cyrus. 

NAUTILUS 

“‘Nautilus’ is by far the best product of the author’s 
powers, and is certain to achieve the wide success it so 
richly merits.” 

ISLA HERON 

This interesting story is written in the author’s usual 
charming manner. 

THE LITTLE MASTER 

“ A well told, interesting tale of a high character.” — 
California Gateway Gazette. 

A— 6 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


DELIGHTFUL BOOKS FOR LITTLE 

FOLKS 

By Laura E. Richards 

THREE MINUTE STORIES 

Cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight plates in full color 
and many text illustrations . . . . $1.50 

“ Little ones will understand and delight in the stories 
and poems.” — Indianapolis News. 

FIVE MINUTE STORIES 

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.50 
A charming collection of short stories and clever poems 
for children. 

MORE FIVE MINUTE STORIES 

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.50 
A noteworthy collection of short stories and poems 
for children, which will prove as popular with mothers 
as with boys and girls. 

FIVE MICE IN A MOUSE TRAP 

Cloth decoratiye, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.50 

The story of their lives and other wonderful things 
related by the Man in the Moon, done in the vernacular 
from the lunacular form by Laura E. Richards. 

POLLYANNA ANNUAL NO. I 

Trade Mark 

The Yearly GLAD Book. 

Trade ’ " Mark 

Edited by Florence Orville. 

Large octavo, with nearly 200 illustrations, 12 in full 
color, bound with an all-over pictorial cover design in 
colors, with fancy printed end papers. $2.00 

“The contents of this splendid volume are evidently 
intended to demonstrate the fact that work is as good 
a glad game as play if gone about the right way. There 
are clever little drawings any one could imitate, and in 
imitating learn something. There are adventurous tales, 
fairy tales, scientific tales, comic stories and serious 
stories in verse and prose.” — Montreal Herald and Star . 
A— 7 


THE PAGE COMPANY’S 


THE BOYS’ STORY OF THE 
RAILROAD SERIES 

By Burton E. Stevenson 
Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 
per volume ....... $1.65 

THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND; Or, The Ad- 

ventures of Allan West. 

“The whole range of section railroading is covered in 
the story.” — Chicago Post. 

THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER 

“ A vivacious account of the varied and often hazard- 
ous nature of railroad life.” — Congregationalist. 

THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER 

“ It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to 
anyone who loves a good, wholesome, thrilling, informing 
yarn.” — Passaic News. 

THE YOUNG APPRENTICE; Or, Allan West’s 
Chum. 

“The story is intensely interesting.” — Baltimore Sun. 

STORIES BY 
BREWER CORCORAN 

Each, one volume, 12mo, cloth decorative, illus- 
trated, per volume . . . . . . $1.65 

THE BOY SCOUTS OF KENDALLVILLE 

Published with the approval of “ The Boy Scouts of 
America .” 

The story of a bright young factory worker who can- 
not enlist because he has three dependents, but his 
knowledge of woodcraft and wig-wagging gained through 
Scout practice enables him to foil a German plot to blow 
up the munitions factory. 

THE BARBARIAN ; Or, Will Bradford’s School 
Days at St. Jo’s. 

“This is a splendid story of friendship, study and 
sport, winding up with a perfectly corking double play.” 
— Springfield Union. 

A— 8 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS 

(Trade Mark) 

By Annie Fellows Johnston 
Each large 12mo , cloth , illustrated, per volume . $ 1.65 

THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES 

(Trade Mark) 

Being three “ Little Colonel ” stories in the Cosy Corner 
Series, “ The Little Colonel,” “ Two Little Knights of 
Kentucky,” and “ The Giant Scissors,” in a single volume. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HOUSE PARTY 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HOLIDAYS 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HERO 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING- 

(Trade Mark) 

SCHOOL 

THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S CHRISTMAS 

(Trade Mark) 

VACATION 

THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S KNIGHT COMES 

(Trade Mark) 

RIDING 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S CHUM, MARY 

WARE (Trade Mark) 

MARY WARE IN TEXAS 
MARY WARE’S PROMISED LAND 

These twelve volumes , boxed as a set, $18.00. 

A— 9 


- THE PAGE COMPANY'S 


SPECIAL HOLIDAY EDITIONS 

Each small quarto, cloth decorative, per volume . $1-50 

New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-paga 
drawings in color, and many marginal sketches. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL 

(Trade Mark) 

TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY 
THE GIANT SCISSORS 
BIG BROTHER 

THE JOHNSTON JEWEL SERIES 

Each small 16mo, cloth decorative, with frontispiece 

and decorative text borders, per volume $0.75 

IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: The Legend 

op Camelback Mountain. 

THE THREE WEAVERS: A Fairy Tale for 
Fathers and Mothers as Well as for Their 
Daughters. 

KEEPING TRYST: A Tale of King Arthur’s 
Time. 

THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART 
THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: 

A Fairy Play for Old and Young. 

THE JESTER’S SWORD 


THE LITTLE COLONEL’S GOOD TIMES 
BOOK 

Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series . $1.65 

Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold . 5.00 

Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg. ' 

“ A mighty attractive volume in which the owner may 
record the good times she has on decorated pages, and 
under the directions as it were of Annie Fellows John- 
ston.” — Buffalo Express . 

A— 10 


BOORS BOB 70UNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK — 

First Series 

Quarto, boards, printed in colors . ■«. $1.50 

A series of “Little Colonel” dolls. Each has several 
changes of costume, so they can be appropriately clad 
for the rehearsal of any scene or incident in the series. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK— 
Second Series 

Quarto, boards, printed in colors . . . $1.50 

An artistic series of paper dolls, including not only 
lovable Mary Ware, the Little Colonel’s chum, but many 
another of the much loved characters which appear in 
the last three volumes of the famous “ Little Colonel 
Series.” 

ASA HOLMES 

By Annie Fellows Johnston. 

With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery. 

16mo, cloth decorative, gilt top . . . $1.25 

“ 1 Asa Holmes ’ is the most delightful, most sympar 
thetic and wholesome book that has been published in a 
long while.” — Boston Times. 

TRAVELERS FIVE: ALONG LIFE’S HIGH- 
WAY 

By Annie Fellows Johnston. 

With an introduction by Bliss Carman, and a frontis- 
piece by E. H. Garrett. 

12mo, cloth decorative $1.25 

“ Mrs. Johnston broadens her reputation with this book 
so rich in the significance of common things.” — Boston 
Advertiser. 

JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE 

By Annie Fellows Johnston. 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.65 

“ The book is a very clever handling of the greatest 
event in the history of the world.” — Rochester, N. F, 
Herald . 

Ar-U 


THE PAGE COMPANY'S 


THE BOYS’ STORY OF THE ARMY 
SERIES 

By Florence Kimball Russel 

BORN TO THE BLUE 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“ The story deserves warm commendation and genuine 
popularity.” — Army and Navy Register . 

IN WEST POINT GRAY 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“ One of the best books that deals with West Point.” — 
New York Sun. 

FROM CHEVRONS TO SHOULDER- 
STRAPS 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“ The life of a cadet at West Point is portrayed very 
realistically.” — The Hartford Post, Hartford, Conn. 

DOCTOR’S LITTLE GIRL SERIES 

By Marion Ames Taggart 

Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume , $1.50 

THE DOCTOR’S LITTLE GIRL 

“ A charming story of the ups and downs of the life 
of a dear little maid.” — The Churchman. 

SWEET NANCY: The Further Adventures of 
the Doctor’s Little Girl. 

“Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence 
cannot but be elevating.” — New York Sun. 

NANCY, THE DOCTOR’S LITTLE PARTNER 

“ The jtory is sweet and fascinating, such as many 
girls of wholesome tastes will enjoy.” — Springfield Union . 

NANCY PORTER’S OPPORTUNITY 

“ Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young 
woman, with plenty of pluck.” — Boston Globe. 

NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS 

“ The story is refreshing.”— New York Sun. 

A— 12 



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